


Coming in Threes

by twosidedcoin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author Just Wants Kudos, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Stephen Strange, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Gen, Marvel Norse Lore, Protective Thor (Marvel), References to Norse Religion & Lore, Spoilers, Untranslated French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 02:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosidedcoin/pseuds/twosidedcoin
Summary: “When Thanos snapped his fingers, it wiped out half of all life.” The red Thanos rose the arm wearing the blocky outline of his gauntlet and snapped. Half the crowd of people rushing towards him began to fade and blow away like sand in a desert.“I was present,” Stephen reminded.She smirked up at him, fingers twitching. The red images shifted to the clear depiction of Earth, bright lights dotting across the land. At the wave of her fingers the dots began to disappear. Exactly half, blinking out of existence.“It was consistent with every planet. Every country. Every town. Every home,” Wanda continued, “All save one.”(Wanda recruits Stephen to help uncover a mystery after the defeat of Thanos - what they find changes everything they thought they knew.)





	Coming in Threes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a cocktail of old Norse mythology, Marvel movie and comic book canon, personal headcanons and the author's need to see these three together. She regrets nothing.
> 
> She hopes you don't either.

It was raining when she came.

  
The pattering sound was lost somewhere in all the dead space of the New York Sanctum, echoing beneath the noise of a fist knocking against the door. At first, Stephen wasn’t sure that the sound of someone banging on his door was just that – not accustomed to getting visitors, even less used to the visitors actually knocking. Usually they just stormed inside – demanding and loud – or they crash through his ceiling and assumed that meant he had to help them.

  
So when she knocked, he hesitated. A second later, he moved to answer it.

  
Wanda stared back at him, blue eyes alight with a fevered sort of excitement. The last they’d spoke – weeks ago, only in passing – she was going to pick up where Natasha had left off. Helping people, finding the lost and bringing them home.

  
As far as Stephen knew, she had been doing a good job. If nothing else it kept her busy, too preoccupied to linger on the ones she’d lost.

  
“Doctor Strange,” she greeted kindly, “I have discovered something.”

  
Stephen stepped aside to allow her entrance and though the rain was falling so hard it whitened out the rest of the world she remained dry. Her red overcoat not even damp as she stepped past, long curls bouncing with each step.

  
She’d never come to him before with her discoveries – preferring either Barton or Wilson, now the new Captain America – but he didn’t turn her away. He didn’t ask either. He just crossed his arms and waited. She didn’t keep him waiting for long.

  
Her face wasn’t bothering to mask her excitement from whatever her discovery was. Stephen was intrigued, of course, but he knew better than to allow his curiosity to take over. First, he needed details.

  
Stephen straightened his spine, felt the way his cloak billowed dramatically behind him, as he asked, “Why come here?”

  
“Because it’s something only you can understand,” she informed him, eyes still shining, “I don’t even truly understand it myself. At first, I thought it a mistake because how could they miss it in five years but then I realized that I was the only one able to feel it. It got me thinking – perhaps because I was more connected to its source.”

  
The fast pace in which she was speaking and lack of details was making Stephen dizzy. He raised his hand in signal for her to stop speaking. Her mouth clicked shut, eyes still burning.

 

“I think it would be best for you to start in the beginning,” he advised, earning a quick agreeable nod.

  
Red sparks danced along pale fingers, taking the shape of a crowd of people. In the center stood the familiar figure of Thanos. Stephen felt the warmth of her magic surround him as it began to take shape of her words.

  
“When Thanos snapped his fingers, it wiped out half of all life.” The red Thanos rose the arm wearing the blocky outline of his gauntlet and snapped. Half the crowd of people rushing towards him began to fade and blow away like sand in a desert.

  
“I was present,” Stephen reminded.

  
She smirked up at him, fingers twitching. The red images shifted to the clear depiction of Earth, bright lights dotting across the land. At the wave of her fingers the dots began to disappear. Exactly half, blinking out of existence.

  
“It was consistent with every planet. Every country. Every town. Every home,” Wanda continued, “All save one.”

  
Her fingers stopped over the red Earth, and Stephen noticed the small rectangle where the lights hadn’t disappeared. Stephen squinted down at it as he began to understand her frenzied excitement.

  
“How is that possible?” he asked her.

  
“That’s the thing,” Wanda said, “Nobody even knew about it because they hadn’t felt it. They couldn’t sense the protection wrapped around the town, and since nothing had happened to the town, they hadn’t realized that anything was wrong.”

  
Stephen stared down at the soft lights, glowing despite everything, and felt his own interest begin to prickle. It was the first time since becoming Sorcerer Supreme that he felt anything perk his interest.

  
“They’d been shielded by something,” he noted. She nodded.

  
“Unfortunately, it begun to fade after we were brought back. I hadn’t had long to trace it but from what little I did it was clear that whatever it was it was very old and very powerful. More so than anything I could replicate.”

  
It would have to be, to counteract the will of the six infinity stones together. The wielder would have had to hold a special connection to their magic – borne with it – and Stephen knew very few borne with that type of connection.

  
He’d been taught special ways to access it. Wanda had been experimented on; her magic forced into her. Whereas they were limited, the infinity stones had not been. Neither, it seemed, had whoever saved that town.

  
“Why hadn’t anybody learned about this earlier?” Stephen asked, “Did this person not offer their assistance?”

  
Wanda waved her hand. The red Earth blinked out. Her face was as somber as her voice – soft and gentle and Stephen was reminded that she was still very young. He was too, all things considered.

  
“There’s been no communication between the rest of the world and the town. No phone calls. No visitations. Not even any social media presences. It’s like they never realized what had happened.”

  
Stephen’s eyebrows rose in his dark hairline. Her lips pursed together, blue eyes shining at their newest mystery, and perhaps if one of them had survived the snap then things would have turned out differently. Their sacrifices wouldn’t have to be so great.

  
“It was like that for four and a half years,” Wanda explained, “and then, suddenly, a gamer began playing online.”

  
“And this gamer–?”

  
“Is the only one. Yes. I think he may be the sorcerer that we’re looking for.”

  
“A worthy inclusion,” Stephen noted thoughtfully, “Do you know who we’d be looking for?”

  
It was said almost offhandedly because, of course, there was a reason she came to him for this and not one of the others. Still her face brightened at his use of we. He tried not to think about it for too long.

  
It was hard when her voice was bright and pleased as she explained, “We know his gamertag is Noobmaster69 and that he lives in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in France. It’s a lovely–”

  
“–town in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region. Yes. I’m familiar,” he looked up at her to see her blinking in surprise so he gave her his own mirthful expression, “I took Christine on a tour around France once. It had been her idea to visit some of the smaller lesser known locations.”

  
Wanda looked almost embarrassed as she realized that he hadn’t always been Sorcerer Supreme. That – at one point – he’d had a girlfriend and money and was one of the best surgeons to ever have graced New York City.

  
He’d also been a narcissistic pompous asshole who couldn’t form a meaningful relationship with anyone. It was a person worth forgetting.

  
He waved his hand and promised, “It was a long time ago. Simpler times.”

  
Wanda hummed, and he thinks she understood that better than most. Neither seemed eager to continue their current thread of conversation, though, so he turned their attention back to the mystery at hand.

  
“This person – this Noobmaster69 – did you discover his birth name?”

  
“I discovered a name,” Wanda clarified, “Serrue.”

  
“French for lock,” Stephen noted, “Interesting. Well I suppose we won’t receive any more answers sitting around here wondering about them. Come along now.”

  
He moved, red cloak billowing. Wanda followed, but she was squinting up at him – and no longer in elation at being invited along. It took her to the top of the staircase before she found her courage.

  
“Not dressed like that, you’re not,” she told him, “Do you have anything subtler?”

  
Stephen surprised himself by chuckling at her question. It’s been a long time since he’s worried about how whatever he was wearing was perceived to the public.

  
“I’ll see what I can find.”

 

* * *

 

  
“That hadn’t been what I had in mind.”

  
Stephen smirked. His dark three piece suit a stark contrast to her much more casual jeans and red shirt. Wanda crossed her arms and glowered up at him.

  
“It was either this or the wizard getup,” he told her, surprised by the teasing twang the words came out with.

  
It had never really been in his nature to playfully tease anybody. He could do aloof ally or annoyed asshole. Wanda didn’t seem to notice, the two of them never interacting much before for her to think much of it.

  
Stephen turned his attention down the cobblestoned road. People were moving around them, very few turning to look at them – just two weird foreign tourists out on private business. Normal people with normal lives and none of them the person they were searching for.

  
“Perhaps our Serrue is at home,” Stephen noted.

  
Wanda shook her head. Her normally blue eyes were alight with a faint red hue, and Stephen hoped that whoever this sorcerer was had a good reason to not join them. To not aid in the fight against Thanos because she believed they’d have been less likely to lose the ones they loved. Stephen felt much the same.

  
They ended up outside a small local coffee shop. Stephen bought Wanda lunch with the reminder that she needs to regain her strength. Neither said so out loud but even with their combined strength they may not be able to subdue this Serrue if he reacted to their presence violently.

  
Stephen sipped at his coffee, eyes scanning the roads in search of any clues at all. A raven cawed loudly, perching itself on the back of the chair at the table beside them. Its dark eyes stared thoughtfully back at them.

  
“Am I crazy or is that bird watching us?” Wanda asked.

  
Stephen squinted, thinking along the same lines as her. He called upon his magic – gold lighting up his fingertips – as he pushed out towards it. The bird cawed loudly as it took back to the sky, almost instantly. It didn’t matter, though. Stephen had felt it.

  
Wanda must have to because she followed him to his feet without a word. He peered in the direction the bird had disappeared down, but Wanda was the one to feel it first. Her connection more natural than his.

  
“Down there,” she called, starting down the word with a click of her heels. Stephen was close behind, and he wasn’t sure what she felt, but he trusted that she did.

  
The road brought them to a market. Booths and stalls crowding the already narrow streets as vendors called out to passerby’s in thick accents. Stephen recognized most of the words and politely would decline. Wanda paid them no attention as she stalked past them all, the slightest bit of red on her fingers.

  
She was searching. Stephen supposed he should be grateful she was there, able to call upon the mystical force binding them with more simple hand gestures. Any attempt he’d make would certainly attract the wrong type of attention.

  
He kept close to her back, dark eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces for any indication of what they were looking for. Then, suddenly, the glow on Wanda’s fingers died as they stepped just outside the market to find a boy – no older than sixteen – behind a table he obviously pulled from the dumpster.

  
Dark hair blew around milky white features as nimble fingers fiddled with a deck of cards that was worn and used. On the corner of the table was a jar, lip chipped and long crack running along the backside. The boy had taped a piece of paper to it and wrote in neat French “ _Faites vos jeux_ ” and beneath it the English translation. _Place your bets._  
Wanda approached him with a casual air that made it seem almost too casual. She’d found their Serrue and he looked as if a strong breeze would knock him over. Stephen felt the back of his throat burn – grateful it had been one of them who had found him and not someone with worst intentions.

  
Someone like Thanos.

  
The boy must have felt it too because he looked up at them with a distrustful stare – eyes a green far brighter than anything Stephen’s ever seen before. Wanda stopped at the table, smiled pleasantly as she pulled the money Stephen had given her at the airport to place in the jar.

  
Green eyes flickered to it before back up at her. His hands never stopped as he shuffled the cards with the expertise of someone who’s done it countless times before. Stephen felt another sharp pang when he realized this was a boy who made his money on the streets, and not ten minutes ago they had both been silently berating him for not assisting in their cause.

  
He couldn’t have been much older than ten when the snap had first happened, and yet he’d saved an entire town from turning to dust. The reminder should have put Stephen back on edge, but the longer he looked at the youth the more he felt himself relax.

  
When he spoke, it was without an accent but the words came with the impressive ease of a native. “Il faut payer pour rester.”

  
_You have to pay to stay._

  
Wanda hid her confusion well. Blue eyes tilted up to Stephen as he took out the folded money he was carrying around and slipped it in the clear bottle. Intelligent green ways watched his movement with an almost critical stare.

  
“Anglais, s'il vous plaît,” Stephen requested.

  
The boy snorted, but when he spoke next it was with an English as familiar as his French.

  
“Your French is decent for an American,” he noted, head tilted to the side and grin mischievous in a way that made Stephen pause.

  
This boy was accustomed to being the smartest in the room. Stephen wasn’t entirely sure it was a badge he hadn’t earned. Wanda’s shoulders relaxed at the familiar language but was careful to keep her face impassive. Serrue smirked at her, seeing her relief for what it was.

  
“The name of the game is simple,” Serrue explained to her, “Find the Lady.” He set down three cards, face–side up. The Jack of Spades. Ace of Diamonds. Queen of Hearts. Stephen eyed the three of them warily. “You want to find the Queen. It’s as simple as that.”

  
Stephen was aware of this trick. He figured Wanda was to, but her face never changed. Serrue smirked back at them both.  
“Well, get on with it,” Wanda said.

  
Serrue’s grin turned sharp and glittery. Wanda didn’t back down from the stare, shifting her stance to something more battle ready. If Serrue took the challenge for what it was his face didn’t betray him.

  
Pale fingers flipped the cards over before dancing over the tops as he begun to move them. Wanda’s blue eyes watched carefully, memorizing every movement. Less than a minute later Serrue pulled back and gestured for her to choose.

  
She met his stare with one of her own and didn’t break his gaze as she reached out to tap the top of the middle card. Red seeped through the faded design, faded the moment Wanda removed her hand. Easily passable as a trick of the light.

  
Serrue flipped the card, and if he was surprised to see the queen staring back at him, he didn’t show it. His grin remained sharp.

  
“I didn’t realize we were cheating, little sorceress,” Serrue clicked disapprovingly, but he was still smiling like this was the first exciting thing that’s ever happened to him.

  
“I showed you mine,” Wanda said simply, “Now show me yours.”

  
Green eyes nearly turned ablaze, irises adopting a soft green glow as his fingers sparked and Stephen watched the Queen’s face change to Wanda’s. He handed it to her before turning his attention towards Stephen.

  
“And you?” he inquired with the almost sweetness of a child.

  
Stephen held his hands up, waved them in a familiar pattern in front of himself. Golden light lit up in front of him, tracing weird symbols through the air before fading. In his palm was a new deck of cards he handed towards the boy.

  
Serrue took it, and it disappeared inside his pocket. He looked very interested in the both of them, and Stephen supposed that was better than fear or anger. His next words did catch Stephen off-guard though.

  
“You two must be here about my memories.”

  
Wanda turned to look at Stephen. Stephen kept his eyes on the youth before him – Serrue making sense now.

  
“Did you pick your name?” he asked, not unkindly and he’s never thought himself good with children before.

  
Serrue shrugged and confirmed his suspicions, “I thought it only appropriate. All things considered.” Green eyes narrowed. “Unless, of course, neither of you know what I’m talking about.”

  
He was getting tense – agitated – at the thought of opening up to complete strangers under the pretense that they knew what was going on only because they shared his ability with magic. Stephen felt for him, couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to not only have your very self stripped from you while remaining alone throughout the ordeal.

  
“Somebody locked your memories from you,” Stephen said, without missing a beat.

  
Serrue physically relaxed, green eyes going a mossy softness. Above them, a raven circled – another soon joining. It drew his attention upward – remembering the way dark eyes watched him and Wanda earlier. From the way Wanda twitched at his side she felt much the same.

  
Serrue waved his hand, table engulfed in a low green glow before disappearing from sight. There was no bright lights or slow fading. One moment it was there, the next it wasn’t. The cash was gone as well.

  
“We should go,” Serrue noted, “I’m not particularly fond of what follows those birds.”

  
He moved, dark hair blowing across his delicate features. He wore dark pants that were several sizes too big – long tear starting from his hip and ending just above his knee and poorly sewn together with a green thread. His hoodie hung from narrow shoulders; sleeves shoved up to his elbows.

  
“The birds led us to you,” Wanda pointed out.

  
Stephen suppressed a smirk – glad she saw it too. Serrue didn’t look impressed. Stephen was starting to suspect very little impressed the kid.

  
“No. They didn’t,” he promised simply, starting down the road. “You just followed them here. Come on. I know a place.”

  
They followed him through the winding streets. They followed past people and small shops, Wanda’s stomach grumbling at his side in reminder that they should eat. Then he was taken by how ferocious the thought seized him, even as a doctor he’d never struck himself as nurturing.

  
Occasionally Serrue would glance up to see if the ravens were still following. They were. A constant vigilant high up in the sky and no twist or turn Serrue made threw them off. Not until they reached an abandoned office building did the ravens give twin angry cries before disappearing.

  
Stephen watched. Wanda beside him, head tilted up and blue eyes wide. The look they shared confirmed their uncertainty. Serrue didn’t seem to notice, which was probably indication to just how noteworthy it actually was.

  
“Either come along or return to America,” Serrue snapped at them, already half-way up the mostly broken staircase.

  
Wanda gave a low amused chuckle. When Stephen glanced at her, eyebrows raised, she shrugged and moved to follow. She flipped her red curls over her shoulder.

  
“I like him.”

  
Stephen did too, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. The kid seemed to have enough of an inflated ego as it was.

  
Serrue lead them up the three flights of stairs before taking them down a hallway with a red velvet carpet. Boxes and crates were piled in the hall, cluttering the already narrow space. Stacked amongst the old broken furniture people decided hadn’t been worth saving.

  
Serrue moved with the familiarity of someone who’s done this before. He went over to the hole in the wall that had perhaps once been a window. Now there was only broken glass that crunched under their boots and a suspicious lack of roof tiles outside. On top was a trail of plywood leading to a separate window Stephen had to duck to fit through.

  
“This cannot be safe,” Stephen noted, “or sanitary.”

  
The smile Serrue gave him was all teeth and bright and oddly familiar. Stephen squinted dark eyes at him, but just as quickly as the sensation of him meeting this kid before dawned on him it receded. Tumbling from his mind like smoke circling around his ankles.

  
“You always this bright of a detective, Mister Wizard?” and the child’s playfulness mixed with the words made Stephen smile.

  
The hallway took them to a door dangling from two of its three hinges. Serrue pushed it open with pale fingers and a glittery smile, revealing a small space.

  
The mound of covers Serrue had folded carefully for his version of a bed took up most the space. Cords unwound themselves from the once colorful and now mostly faded covers, leading to a small black screen that cost more than the condomed building he was living in. Wanda smirked down at it.

  
“Do you play?” Serrue asked her, flopping down on the mound of sheets to smirk up at them both – seemingly no longer concerned about the ravens.

  
“No,” Wanda confessed, “Never had the time. Do you?”

  
“Yeah.” Green eyes were shining, soft and happy. “There’s this man I play with. He has this really angry friend that yells at me whenever I insult his friend.”

  
“That doesn’t bother you?” Wanda inquired sweetly.

  
“Should it?” Serrue said oblivious. “Something about his voice reminds me of home.”

  
“And where is that?”

  
Serrue shrugged. “I can’t remember, but whenever he speaks I see gold and blue and it’s warm. It’s nice. He hasn’t played in a while though. You don’t think something’s happened to him, do you?”

  
Stephen didn’t know, but he hoped not. For the undersized teenage boy sitting amongst mounds of discarded things, he hoped the stranger was still alive. Wanda’s face melted into kind reassurance.

  
“I’m sure he’s fine,” she promised, “It’s been a hectic couple of weeks.”

  
Serrue squinted. He didn’t look like he was capable of protecting a whole town from the will and power of the infinity stones or the mad titan. He didn’t look strong enough to somehow isolate everyone who’d miraculously survived from the rest of the broken world. He didn’t look like much more than a small defenseless orphan with brilliant green eyes.

  
Stephen was overcome by the surge of protectiveness that washed over him. Warm and real and completely foreign because he doesn’t feel this way about others. He just doesn’t and yet–

  
“Are you hungry?” he heard himself ask.

  
Serrue tilted his head to the side, and Wanda was a little more reserved then him, but both their eyes betrayed them. They were young and alone in this world and Stephen needed to get his feelings under control. They weren’t puppies. He couldn’t just take them off the streets. He’s the Sorcerer Supreme, and neither made any indication of even wanting to be adopted.

  
But they looked so little, and Stephen supposed Christine had always been right when she said he’d just haven’t met the right child yet. Christine probably anticipated that child being theirs though. Something they made together and watched grow – not two teenagers with enough power to stop mad men and level entire cities.

  
Wanda’s blue gaze flickered back over to Serrue, waiting for him to turn Stephen down because that was the sensible thing orphans did. It just seemed that Serrue wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity. His smile lit up his pale features.

  
“I could eat.”

 

* * *

  
They ended up at one of the higher-end restaurants, which was saying something considering they were in France. Serrue received a hard look from the hostess, but Stephen could be surprisingly charming. He could be a lot of things Wanda was starting to realize.

  
She still remembered that day they came back. The way his eyes remained hard and focused and untouchable. Stark hadn’t seemed bothered by it – though to be fair there was very little he had seemed bothered by in life – but whenever she thought back on that day, she realized Stephen had known.

  
It seemed cold in his calculations but there was an air of sensibility to it. One man versus half the universe – a riddle children whisper amongst themselves to prove their worth. Stephen chose the universe. Wanda suspects that he’ll always choose the universe.

  
Whenever she found out about the magic in France her first thought was to take it to Sam. That would have been the sensible thing to do, and he would have done whatever he could to help her. It wouldn’t have been enough, though. She needed someone who understood. Someone like the Sorcerer Supreme.

  
She never imagined she’d ever get to see him smile – much less be the cause of it. Or to see his usually closed off demeanor open to the strange boy with brilliant green eyes nor did she anticipate to feel her own surge of warm affection towards him – something she’s yet to feel for anyone since Pietro. It had come close with Vision, in the very beginning, but that quickly turned into something else.

  
“What’re you thinking about to turn you all red like that?” Serrue asked her, tone light and teasing and she couldn’t help but think that though he couldn’t remember he must have had a sibling – one he had been very close with.

  
She ducked her gaze, felt the blush burn brighter. She needed to stop thinking about Vision, and all the things he made her feel, because she knew lingering on him will only bring back the empty hole losing him left her with.

  
Serrue thrummed his long pale fingers against the top of the table. Stephen thought he was being discrete by the way he held the menu, hiding his smirk. Wanda found herself smiling at them both– the last she felt something like this was before the war that took her parents. Before the experiments and separate war she’d help caused that took her brother.

  
She barely knew these people. She didn’t know Serrue at all, but she felt less weighted when she was around them. Less sad. Less mournful. Less tragic. She almost hoped Stephen felt it too.

  
“I was thinking of my boyfriend,” she told Serrue in answer to his question, “He used to do this thing with his tongue that made me–”

  
“Alright,” Stephen interrupted, giving her a scowl that reminded her of her father.

  
She missed him. She never spoke about it – and nobody ever asked – but she felt each loss inside her every day. Scarring her heart and building another wall to close herself off from the pain and grief – to Pietro’s cocky smirk or Vision’s secret smiles.

  
“Where is he now?” Serrue continued, young and innocent and brighter than anyone else in the room.

  
Wanda felt her own face fall, felt her own defenses begin to tumble, as she replied, “He’s gone now. Dead.”

  
Remorse flickered across Serrue’s face. A flicker before it disappeared and he was back to smiling a sharp twisted thing that set her nerves burning in unease. _Dangerous_ , they seemed to cry out at her, _he’s dangerous. Run._

  
“Must be hard,” Serrue noted sympathetically.

  
“Yeah,” Wanda agreed pushing back the voice yelling at her to get as far away from the boy across from her. She wasn’t sure what drove her to say the next part or how it came out so nonchalant and casual, “That tongue could perhaps be the greatest loss this world has ever known.”

  
Serrue snorted and Stephen’s eyes sharpened, like he was about to berate her. Whenever Serrue spoke next though, his tone was soft and thoughtful. It was laced with the same vulnerable pain he’d used when he had talked about the stranger on his game.

  
“I think I’ve lost someone important to me,” he said, “I can’t remember their faces, but sometimes I wake up feeling their loss.”

  
Wanda’s chest twisted.

  
She thought of her brother – of his pale features and the way he smirked in that teasing way of his. She thought of how, before the bomb and death of their parents, he could get girls to squirm with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. She thought of Vision, and how’d he made her feel like those girls had looked.

  
She hurt every day, every moment. Every second her heart beat stubbornly on despite everything it’s lost she knew she could always think back to the memories she kept of them. Losing that would be like losing them all over again. Losing every part of them and never knowing where the hurt came from – only that it hurt.

  
Serrue smiled again – master of his moods, it seemed. Flipping through them as quick and seamless as an insomniac trying to find peace on the television. Wanda’s heart gave another pained twist.

  
“What about you Mister Wizard?” Serrue asked, turning a sweet smile to Stephen.

  
Stephen’s dark eyes turned to liquid. Serrue seemed to have that affect on them and – perhaps – it was because they were connected at a fundamental level. Their cells practically buzzing in each other’s company.

  
It should concern her and at some microscopic part she thinks that it did – how easy they’ve fallen in place. It was just so easy being in the company of people that she knew understood. That could feel the push and pull of the world.

  
“I’ve seen people die,” Stephen supplied gently – real pain in his eyes.

  
Wanda wondered if he was thinking about Christine or perhaps Tony. Her heart gave a sympathetic whine – the same it does whenever Clint thought about Natasha. They’d all seen people die. Good people, heroes in every form of the word, and Wanda wasn’t a child. She knew they wouldn’t have won without either of them sacrificing themselves.  
That didn’t make the knowledge that they were gone any easier. It didn’t sting as much as Vision or left her reeling like Pietro or empty as when her parents exploded. She did feel it, though.

  
Serrue must have too. Wanda’s fingers thrummed against the tabletop as a traitorous voice in the back of her head proclaimed that the battle against Thanos would have been different if Serrue had been there. She only had to glance at him to remember why that hadn’t happened.

  
He ended up eating three plates before he tensed, pushing one away to proclaim, “We need to go.”

  
Stephen squinted but raised his hand for the check. Wanda looked around and spotted the twin ravens peering back at them from behind the glass outside.

  
“What do the ravens mean?” she asked.

  
“I can’t remember,” Serrue admitted, “but I do remember that I don’t want either of you to meet what usually comes next.”

  
This was the third time Wanda’s seen the birds, and the only thing that’s come from it was them finding Serrue. From Stephen’s furrowed brow she knew he was thinking along the same thought as her.

  
He still paid for the meal and followed Serrue’s frantic dash to the back door. It led out into an alleyway that wrapped around into the street. They never made it back to the street.

  
“Little cousin!” a deep voice boomed, sparking every fight-or-flight reflex Wanda owned.

 

Red sparks warmed the tips of her fingers, electric and bright, as she commanded, “Serrue. Behind me.”

  
Serrue didn’t move – hadn’t moved since the sound of the voice. All color had drained from his features, green eyes sparkling in young fear. Stephen stepped beside her, and he must have felt the rush of power and adrenaline because his hands were bright with golden circles.

  
A man was standing at the end of the alleyway. The ravens were perched on either of his broad shoulders, and something about him reminded her of Thor. Particular because he didn’t really physically resemble Thor.

  
His hair was a bright red frizzy mess, grey eyes narrowing on the three of them. His smile was sharp and closer to a shark’s then the God of Thunder. He had a wide stature and a crazed look in his gaze.

  
“Baldur,” Serrue greeted in turn, tone casual and almost friendly – lacking in the fear and apprehension he’s shared whenever they caught sight of his ravens.

  
The man’s smile turned into a cocky smirk – one of those fake ones Pietro used to wear because he knew it annoyed people – as he took a step towards them. The air went electric and it sent buzzing in Wanda’s skull that made her teeth rattle.

  
Stephen must have felt it too because the gold grew brighter. Neither of them moved – a protective wall despite the voice telling her that Serrue didn’t really need them. Serrue protected this whole town from the infinity stones. Then, afterwards, he protected them from the rest of the world. He was strong in ways her and Stephen could only dream of being, but he was young and that made him vulnerable.

  
“What happened to being graceful or cheerful?” Stephen asked.

  
Baldur’s expression grew dark and dangerous as he proclaimed, “Does my very being not scream grace or cheer? You know you two should be grateful. I’m very beloved.”

  
His arrogance annoyed her. She ground the backs of her teeth together, felt the electricity dancing along her fingers flare up in warning. Baldur didn’t seem all that concerned as he continued closing the distance between them.

  
“I’m not what’s known as a people-person,” she said, “What do you want with Serrue?”

  
“Serrue, huh?” Baldur asked, grey eyes flickering to the youth still hiding between her and Stephen’s shoulders.

  
She shuffled on her feet to block Serrue from view – to protect him. She felt Stephen mimic her movements, and she was grateful for him. Felt her entire body thrum at the strength he was emitting. Still, Baldur’s words were directed at the boy behind them.

  
“You haven’t told them, little cousin?” he demanded, “Go on! Speak your true name for all of us!”

  
Serrue shook his head. Green eyes were watery and pained, fingers tugging at dark hair. He looked lost and small and painfully young.

  
“You know what,” Stephen proclaimed, “you talk too much.”

  
He moved – everything graceful and poised – as a whip of electric gold unwound with a loud cracking noise that made Wanda’s bones vibrate. She took his lead, outstretched her hands and creating a red shield between them and the threat.

  
Stephen’s whip lashed out at Baldur and any sensible person would have reeled back. Baldur caught it, allowed it to wrap around his hand and sear red abrasions into his skin. He didn’t look all that bothered as he jerked. Stephen went with it, dark shoes scrapping against the cobblestone.

  
He didn’t look panicked or concerned, but Wanda figured that was because he knew he wasn’t alone. Wanda dropped the shield and pushed with everything she had inside her in a single red burst. With his free hand, Baldur reached up and caught it. Red seeped into tanned skin at the same moment he gave the whip one final jerk. It fizzled out against his skin.

  
His grey eyes were not amused as they narrowed back on them and tutted, “You two didn’t really think that was going to work, did you? Or that I would be foolish enough to just open myself up to any attack?”

  
One of the ravens was gone. Wanda felt her breath hitch, saw Stephen reach the same conclusion from his knees several feet in front of her. Together they turned to find the raven had found its spot on Serrue’s shoulder.

  
“No,” Wanda grunted, hands raised to attack or protect Serrue or something.

  
She was too slow. The raven’s beak pressed against Serrue’s pale temple, causing his fingers to twitch and eyes roll back. He remained upright – somehow – but his entire body was quivering and he’d lost what little color he had.

  
She turned, furious, and Pietro always warned her about allowing her anger to overcome the rest of her. She never listened – allowed her rage to kill Ultron and then to protect Vision and then the world. It had been what lead her in the battle against Thanos. It hadn’t felt like enough then, and it wasn’t enough now.

  
Red struck against a golden barrier before absorbing into the smooth surface, red veins amongst the golden surface. She gave an angry shout, spinning on Stephen. He was at her side, magic still sizzling in the palms of his hands. He didn’t look angry or annoyed, and perhaps Wanda had been wrong about him because his face was calm.

  
“You don’t care!” she accused, “You didn’t care about Stark, and you don’t care now!”

  
Because Serrue looked as if he was having a seizure. Because the raven was pulling back to stare knowingly at the youth. Because there was some strange man wanting him dead.

  
Because she hadn’t been enough for her parents or her brother or the person she loved. No matter how strong she got, she was never enough.

  
“I need you to calm down Maximoff,” Stephen snapped back, face closed-off, but all she could think was that trusting him had been a mistake.

  
She’d just thought – like a child – that he was as human as the rest of them and could feel guilt. That he needed something, that Serrue could elicit some sort of emotion from him.

  
“No!” she yelled, felt the inside of her chest burst.

  
It sent Stephen backwards. He struck the brick wall, bounced and landed on his knees. When he looked back at her his dark eyes weren’t angry. They were calm. He always seemed so painfully calm in everything he did and it made her blood boil – sent a roaring in her ears.

  
Her next scream was unintelligible and, this time, it was a green wall that separated the red blast from its target.

  
“ _Enough!_ ”

  
She turned, anger leaving her as quickly as it came, as blue caught green. Serrue was still upright, raven missing. His skin was still pale, eyes too bright, and he looked the same but there was something different about him.

  
“Serrue,” she breathed, shoulders relaxing.

  
At the end of the alleyway, Baldur chuckled darkly.

  
“Do you understand now, little cousin?” he asked, but Serrue ignored him.

  
Green eyes flickered over to where Stephen had risen to his feet. Stephen’s dark gaze stared back, but it was different. It was like he was seeing him for the first time.  
“We need to go Doctor,” Serrue announced, voice empty from all fear he’d presented several moments ago.

  
“Oh, but little cousin,” Baldur practically purred, “I just did you a favor and still no thank you?”

  
Baldur struck – quicker than a snake – as he bolted forward. A sword he hadn’t had a moment ago was in his hand and he reeled back, aiming for Serrue’s neck. Serrue ducked and on silent feet bounced to the side. He reached out with his foot, hooking it around Baldur’s ankle and knocking him off-balance.

  
“Doctor!” Serrue called over his shoulder.

  
A hand caught Wanda around her elbow as she heard him call back, “Yup,” and the air crackled before she stumbled back into the New York Sanctum.

  
Stephen was beside her, still holding her arm. Serrue landed next and didn’t physically relax until Baldur blinked out of view with a small angry shout. Wanda’s own shoulders drooped, even as Stephen’s grip around her tightened.

  
“Don’t,” Stephen warned in a low voice.

  
Wanda jerked her arm free, blue eyes blazing as she snapped, “Stop pretending you care,” before wrapping Serrue in a tight hug.

  
Serrue tensed, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t draw her in either. He just remained still in her arms, as if patiently waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing. It just made her squeeze him tighter, wanting him to know he was safe now.

  
“What happened Serrue?” Stephen asked behind her.

  
Serrue stepped back and his green eyes looked almost pained as he explained, “Munin restored my memories. It seems I owe you two an explanation.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
Stephen settled them in what could probably pass as his living room. Wanda refused to sit in the chair he offered. Remained on her feet with her arms crossed in fury. Stephen didn’t seem bothered as he took his own seat, dark eyes staring up at Serrue expectantly.

  
Serrue hasn’t spoken since declaring the raven returned his memories. He didn’t look perturbed either, and it was very clear something was different about him. The silence he was letting stretch between the three of them was beginning to unnerve her.

  
“Serrue–” she tried

  
“That’s not my name,” Serrue interrupted, “It’s Loki.”

  
Wanda’s stomach sank. Stephen didn’t look surprised, probably realized what had happened the moment it did. She was starting to get annoyed by all these brainy people.  
“As in the Loki who attacked New York?” she demanded, voice calmer than she felt.

  
Loki must have seen it in her eyes anyways because his face seemed to close itself off. He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, forced smile stretching his lips.  
“The very same,” he hummed, “and also the Loki who’s stolen the tesseract,” he paused before conceding, “Twice.”

  
Wanda cursed him in Transian. Loki stared at her, unmoved and unimpressed. Stephen still didn’t look bothered, and it was probably because he knew. All he had to do was look at him after his memories were returned and he knew.

  
He didn’t sound much of anything as he asked, “What did Baldur want from you?”

  
Long pale fingers picked at the long green sleeves Loki was wearing. Wanda wished it was easier to hate him, but it wasn’t the greasy man that crashed in everybody’s lives forever ago – it was the short gangly kid who had to play Find the Lady – and that was someone Wanda found herself growing overly fond of.

  
“He wants to kill me,” Loki told them bluntly.

  
Wanda’s eyebrow went up as she demanded in a dull voice, “That it?”

  
Loki’s face puckered, green eyes flashing. An ancient expression on someone who looked impossibly young – smaller than her. Wanda had to mentally remind herself to keep the distrustful glower on her face.

  
“He wants to make a performance of it,” Loki offered unhelpfully, “He’s going to make it hurt and long and drawn-out.”

  
“You mean like this conversation?”

  
Loki gave another tired sigh as he stared back at her. His shoulders slumped, fingers tearing at his green sleeves now.

  
“Why restore your memories then?” Stephen – ever the faithful sane man – asked.

  
Wanda wished she could feel as disinterested as he looked. It was hard when every time she looked at Loki her heart yearned to reach out and hold him.

  
“The same reason – I imagine – that he hadn’t cut my head off any of the other times I’ve ran into him,” Loki explained, “He wants me to remember – to know why he’s going to hurt me.”

  
Wanda felt her eyebrow furrow because that didn’t sound quite right. “His raven wasn’t the one who took your memory from you?”

  
Loki shook his head and his voice was calm as he said, “Hugin and Munin are thought to be Odin’s ravens, which is obviously wrong but people seem to always get things wrong when it comes to Asgardian culture. Hugin is in control of thought – hears things that never leave people’s lips. Munin is more of memory, and though I’ve heard stories of him stealing memories from mortals, he’s mostly just used in storing everything everyone ever sees or does so he can report it back to Baldur.”

  
“Who’s Baldur?” Wanda demanded, hurt beginning to ache. “The good doctor over there mentioned he was known for his grace.”

  
Loki rubbed at his temples. He looked tired, skin pale and drawn over his dark features. Wanda stomped on the urge to coddle and reassure him that this conversation could wait for the morning. She didn’t want to feel these things for Loki.

  
“People also think he’s Odin’s son. He’s not. He’s his–”

  
“Nephew?” Wanda interrupted.

  
Loki shrugged, “The closest Asgardians can get any ways. He always referred to me and Thor as his cousins, but I think that was more of a derogatory thing. Thor, the dense oaf, never seemed to notice. He’d thought he was so cool, and let him talk him into any dangerous stunt Baldur thought would be funny, and all the adults let him because they all loved him. Everyone loved him.”

  
“Loved?” Stephen inquired; eyebrow raised. “Past tense?”

  
“The stopped after Thor almost died. Odin sent him away – told him he was to scout the cosmos and report back to him each night. I guess it didn’t take him long to figure out about my attack on New York.”

  
“Why would he care?” Wanda challenged.

  
Loki’s teeth sparkled, gleaming white pearls. His voice was soft and young and she’d always thought it would be easier to hate him.

  
“Any excuse to kill me,” Loki affirmed, “I tried warning Thor a couple of times. Baldur retaliated by throwing me out a window. I hadn’t been there when he almost killed Thor, though, and that’s not something I’ll forgive easily.”

  
The protective ire in his voice sounded a lot like the feeling Wanda felt when Pietro had died. She uncrossed her arms, tapped her foot in annoyance.

  
“You’re going after him,” Wanda stated plainly, and she didn’t have to look at him to know she was right.

  
Loki shrugged, going for innocent and with his current youthful appearance he pulled it off too well. Stephen gave a low sigh from his seat – the only one who’d bothered to have sat down.

  
“In the morning,” he decided, “Right now you smell like the streets and you both look like you could use the rest. You’ll each spend the night here, where you’ll be protected by anyone tracking you.”

  
Loki looked uncertain so Stephan played his ace card.

  
“We should contact Thor and fill him in on what had happened,” Stephen continued smoothly, “Perhaps he can offer new insight on this situation.”

  
Wanda couldn’t help but think that Stephen didn’t care about Thor’s insight. She also knew that he hadn’t been around when Thor showed up looking for the blood of the tyrant that’d killed his brother. He had murder in his multicolored eyes – the same type of murder Wanda had felt years ago. The type Loki had in his own dark green. She squinted at the Stephen, wished she could figure him out.

  
Loki’s green eyes lit up at the mention of Thor, and he sounded overly eager as he asked, “Is Thor still here?”

  
Stephen shook his head, “Not exactly, but I do know a way of contacting him. Shower first. Both of you. I’ll see if I can find you each something a little more comfortable to wear.”

  
Wanda glared, but Loki had found a new purpose and left in search of a shower. Stephen turned his attention towards her and waited. She matched his stare with a glare of her own but she was the first to speak.

  
“We’re just going to trust him then?”

  
It came out accusatory and harsh, fingers glowing red. It was a testimony to Stephen’s character that he didn’t even look bothered. She needed to get herself under control – needed to extinguish the burning fire that’s flared up in her chest. Anger was just so much easier than all other emotions.

  
“This isn’t about trust,” Stephen informed, “This is about figuring out who your mysterious magician was. Now we know and, despite all the evidence on the contrary, he needs help and protection and I’ve sworn myself in helping and protecting those in need.”

  
Wanda crossed her arms and huffed, “I thought you only cared about protecting this world. No matter the sacrifice. I thought that was your whole thing as Sorcerer Supreme?”

  
She was being mean and didn’t care. Her words didn’t seem to affect Stephen, and she wasn’t used to not crawling beneath people’s skin. It was an embarrassingly sobering experience.

  
“Loki is a threat to this world if left unattended,” Stephen reminded calmly. He turned, signaling the end of their conversation. “I have a phone you can contact Wilson and explain the newest development. You’ll find it in your room.”

  
Before Wanda could point out that she never traversed further then the foyer, the room had changed. She was in a bedroom with an oak canopy bed. The floor was wood but had a plush carpet with vines and flowers wrapped around each other in intricate designs. She found the phone on the bedside table by a lamp.

  
She didn’t use it to call Captain America. She should have, to inform him of everything that’s changed because he was Captain America and that’s just what people did.

  
She dialed Clint’s home number. He answered on the third ring.

  
“Hello?” he asked, sounding confused.

  
“Barton,” she said, heavy breath leaving her chest. “I – it’s good to hear your voice. How have you been?”

  
“Wanda?” he sounded worried now – on edge. She could hear the gentle murmuring of his wife asking about her. “What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

  
“I’m fine.”

  
Not at all convincing from the way her voice wobbled, wet with unshed tears. He was one of the few people who ever asks her that, who generally cares about her.  
“Wanda,” he chided. Still sounded worried.

  
“I found somebody – a boy who protected this town in France from the infinity stones. I – Stephen pronounces the name of it better than me.”  
“Wait. What? Stephen?” Clint interrupted, “Are you in New York?”

  
“Yeah,” Wanda supplied, slumping onto the edge of the bed. It was soft, comfortable in ways that reminded her of the bed she’d been forced to stay in by Tony all those years ago. “I’m in New York.”

  
“With _a boy_ ,” Clint continued, “and that strange witch doctor.”

  
“Doctor Strange, actually,” Wanda supplied unhelpfully, “and the boy is actually a boy. Well. Kind of. He’s Loki.”

  
Clint paused. Then breathed, “ _Oh._ ”

  
Wanda continued heedlessly – didn’t realize she had so much on her mind until she started speaking. “He lost his memories somehow, and ended up in France living on the streets. He protected this town without really knowing that he had, and then kept them hidden from the rest of the world. I felt his magic shortly after the funeral, but it faded too quickly. I asked Stephen for support.”

  
“Loki?” Clint repeated.

  
“Yeah. It was Loki, but he hadn’t known it at the time. He was going by Serrue. Then some other man showed up – I think he’s like Thor in that he’s a, _you know_ –”

  
“I do.”

  
“Yeah. Well. This…person, has these ravens and one of the ravens returned Loki’s memories. Or, well, it didn’t sound like he returned them as in that he never had them, but he restored them. Loki – he – I don’t know where he is right now but he tried to destroy New York and he–”

  
“ _Wanda._ ”

  
Wanda stopped, took a deep breath to clear her thoughts. When Clint spoke, it was soft and patient and it stilled some of the raging storm inside her.

  
“What’s really bothering you?” he asked.

  
“It’s just that – every time I look at him, I remember how I almost destroyed the world, and yet you’d learned to forgive me,” she paused, didn’t even realize this was what had been niggling the inside of her brain until then. “How?”

  
Clint released a heavy breath. “You were young, and I could see you generally tried to atone for your actions.”

  
“You thought I was redeemable.”

  
“Most people are,” Clint reassured, “and you were.”

  
Wanda blinked. “And Loki?”

  
Clint gave a deep sigh. She could picture him, rubbing at his forehead in the exhaustion only people he cared for could cause. It tugged at the corners of her lips, the same it always did whenever she realized he cared about her in that rare unconditional way of his.

  
“Last I saw him he was still a dictating prick,” Clint supplied, “but the last I saw Thor he was under the impression that he had changed, and Thor’s no fool. Thor had also been under the impression that he’d died. Does Thor know he’s not?”

  
“I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “Loki seemed eager to hear from him. I just – what if it is a trick? I’m not exactly enthusiastic to drag anymore people into this mess.”

  
“I can’t answer what I don’t know,” Clint reassured her, “but I know that if it was Pietro there would be very few things in this universe that could contain you from finding your way back to him.”

  
The inside of Wanda’s chest pulsed. He was right – he usually was – and she realized that was the reason she’d called him. Sam would have been helpful but he wouldn’t have known.

  
“And, besides,” Clint continued a little more mirthfully then before, “nobody can handle Loki like his older brother.”

 

* * *

 

  
Stephen left him clothes a little more casual then Loki was accustomed to – spread out on the duvet. Even during his brief five years living on the streets he never found something that felt quite like wearing nothing.

  
Stephen kept to his faithful green, which brought a smirk to Loki’s face as he smoothed out the wrinkles in the soft fabric. The pants were dark and a little big around his hips but most clothes were – even when they had been younger and Thor would tease him and say he needed to invest in female clothing.

  
Loki had – once, while Thor had been gone – but he didn’t like the looks he kept receiving from people because apparently it accentuated his best assets. Stephen, at least, spared him that particular embarrassment.

  
Stephen appeared in the corner of the mirror Loki was looking in. Loki turned to find him standing in the doorway. He offered him a smile Stephen didn’t return. Instead he held up a smooth chrome sphere with a single red button.

  
“Is that for Thor?” Loki asked the obvious.

  
Stephen hummed. Loki gestured for him to toss him the sphere, which did earn him an amused snort as Stephen complied. Loki caught it easily enough – learning how to catch things when thrown at you only good sense whenever your brother was Thor Odinson.

  
Loki’s attention dropped down to his hands, chest aching. He faintly recalled the last moment he shared with Thor. The angry furrow of his brows and eye dark in his fury but his voice was all brittle ice and sharp edges.

  
You really are the worst, brother.

  
Loki knew that – has always known – but it was different when the one person you could always count on for being loyal and protective voiced all your insecurities out loud. It made his veins turn to ice and, even though he had his neck snapped moments later, that was the thing he remembered being the most painful.

  
He could handle a lot of things but not Thor’s disappointment. The way his entire face dropped as he said: _You really are the worst._

  
Loki was the worst. Loki has always been the worst, and everyone in his life reminded him of that except for Thor. Then Thor did, and Loki’s life ended. He woke up in the void – in the nothing – and then he wasn’t. He was in France, head empty and a crazy man with red hair chasing after him with his birds.

  
“Everything alright Laufeyson?” Stephen asked him though he didn’t sound like he cared – hadn’t cared since he figured out who Loki really was – and isn’t that just the way?

  
“I’m fine,” Loki said, pressing the button.

  
The device let out a soft whirring sound, growing warm in his hands. The button lit up red, and it bled into the sphere in complicated veins. Loki watched it open up a soft blue screen that blinked once – twice. A teenage _Flora colossus_ peered back at him, gaming device in his hand and boredom clouding dark eyes.

  
Loki vaguely remembered being young, but he remembered it feeling like an adventure every day considering who his brother had been – had never looked as bored as the Flora colossus currently did. He also remembered being told that chances of conversing with one was impossible. Still Thor had insisted he took that elective with him.

  
“I am Groot,” the _Flora colossus_ said – annoyed and confused – and Loki mentally conceded that sometimes Thor could be sensible.

  
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” Loki apologized, back straight and shoulders squared – ever the proper prince Odin never quite believed in.

  
All things considered he might have had a point.

  
“I am Groot.” Loki wrinkled his nose because that seemed a bit on the nose but, he supposed, if nobody ever knew what you were saying then you’d just take what you could get.

  
“Loki,” he replied back, “Is Thor around? Tall. Lots of muscles. Wears an eyepatch. Is any of this ringing any bells?”

  
Groot shuffled before explaining, “I am Groot.”

  
Loki’s knees went weak as he sank onto the corner of the bed. It was firm – reminded him of his bed in Asgard before it exploded, his fault.

  
“Really?” Loki asked, “All of that? Is he – how is he now?”

  
“I am Groot?” Groot demanded, voice harsh and it shouldn’t but his protectiveness for Thor made Loki’s chest grow warm.

  
“You’re right,” Loki agreed, “You don’t know who I am. If you could just please get Thor, I’d appreciate it. It’s important. Tell him _Noobmaster69_ is online.”

  
Groot still looked confused but recognized the mischievous glint in Loki’s eyes, adopting his own impish expression. It made Groot look younger, which was weird because Loki was certain there hadn’t been a young Flora colossus for several decades.

  
“I am Groot,” Groot promised, rising from his chair to go find Thor.

  
Loki turned back to Stephen, who was watching him with a dark gaze. Loki shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, feeling subconscious.  
“You understood him,” Stephen noted, sounded impressed.

  
“It was an elective,” Loki explained as he returned his attention to the screen. His leg begun to bounce subconsciously, panic beginning to sink in his bones. “Thor made me take it.”

  
Stephen nodded as if that made perfect sense. He was a human doctor – surgeon? – and didn’t seem to be a stranger to school.

  
His words were calm and kind as he said, “You care a great deal about him.”

  
Loki’s hands squeezed the chrome sphere, clutching it near him. Ever since Munin returned his memories Loki kept flashing back and forth – past and present. He was in Asgard, surrounded by Thor’s friends and Thor’s adorers and Thor’s parents. He was in France, small and confused and lost, looking for something that he thought he found in a faceless stranger. Revolving around and around, trapped in Thor’s orbit.

  
“He’s my brother,” Loki told him simply. A tear escaped the corner of his eyes and he let it roll down his cheek. “He had always been my singular constant, and now he hates me so. Yeah. We need this information on Baldur though.”

  
Stephen looked like he was about to say but Groot found Thor. His angry exclamation brought a smile to Loki’s face. It was followed by a reasonable, “How could he possibly have found you in space?”

  
Then Thor was there – face stormy and dark – static making the screen crackle.

  
Groot pushed his face back in the screen, looking excited about this newest development. A smaller, furrier face pushed themselves into view – dark eyes burned in intelligence as he took in every detail of Loki’s face. Both were staring at him in amusement, but there was a protective fire burning in their eyes. Something Loki hadn’t seen for his brother since all his friends were murdered by their sister.

  
A soft sob escaped Loki’s throat, tears spilling free. He had to close his eyes as he dropped his hands in his lap. He thought he could do this – for Stephen and Wanda in return for them being nice to him – but he’d always been weak.

 

“Loki?” Thor’s soft voice breathed. “Loki? You’re alive. You’re crying. Loki, why are you crying? Who made you cry? Loki!”

  
“I can’t. I’m sorry,” Loki sobbed, holding the sphere back towards Stephen.

  
Stephen accepted it gracefully, was quick to reassure Thor as the screen continued to sizzle at Thor’s mounting panic. Thor didn’t seem to be in a listening mood as he continued to demand what was wrong with Loki – to speak to Loki.

  
Stephen’s dark gaze settled on Loki through the blue screen, even as Thor continued to curse everyone he could think of. Loki got the message – was the only person who’s ever had to deal with Thor while he was in his moods – and he held out his hand.

  
“Thor – Thor stop! – I’m fine, Thor. I promise,” Loki promised, using his free had to wipe the wetness from pale cheeks.

  
“Loki?” Thor repeated – hopeful and uncertain and sad in ways only Loki could cause.

  
“Yes Thor,” Loki promised, “It’s me. I’m – something. I promise.”

  
“I – yes, I can see that,” Thor agreed a little more sensibly, “You’re looking – well I was going to say fine but you’re so–”

  
“Young.”

  
“ _Little_ ,” Thor finished, “Impossibly tiny. You – have you even been eating properly? You seem quite thin.”

  
Loki chuckled, chest unfurling, as he shook his head and explained, “I’ve spent the last five years on the streets of France, Thor. I survived by burrowing in dumpsters and conning drunk tourists.”

  
Thor looked offended by the prospect. The thought made Loki’s insides glow, face growing warm and sappy.

  
“Why didn’t you reach out to me?” Thor demanded; his voice was harsh in the way he got whenever he cared about someone. “Loki, I mourned you.”

  
“I know brother,” Loki reassured, heart sinking. “I – uh…”

  
“He had amnesia,” Stephen supplied for him, settling in the spot beside Loki and it was childish but Loki instantly felt better. “When we found him, he was going by the name Serrue.”

  
“ _Amnesia?_ ” Thor repeated.

  
“Well he looks fine now,” the racoon jumped in at the same moment.

  
Loki gave him a bright smile as he announced, “I rather like this one, brother. Where’d you manage to find him?”

  
“I am Groot,” Groot explained helpfully.

  
Loki felt his eyebrows raise as he turned back towards Thor and said, “Oh? Is that so? Tell me brother: why does it seem you make your most loyal friends by almost dying?”

  
Thor didn’t look shocked. He didn’t even look bothered – if only a little betrayed. He turned a hurt expression towards Groot.

  
“Oh great,” the racoon sighed, “There’s two of them.”

  
Loki smiled but knew Thor deserved an explanation. Thor deserved more than an explanation, but Loki supposed he could start there.

  
“Munin restored my memories in France,” Loki offered, “Thor – I know I lost the right to ask you of anything but I need your help.”

  
The racoon’s hair begun to stick up in the direction of Thor as his discolored eyes grew dark and cloudy – the sky and the earth, right before a thunderstorm rolled through.  
“Baldur,” Thor said – short and simple.

  
Loki nodded and pressed, “You were always close to him and – I know this is the furthest thing from what I deserve – but I need you to tell me everything you know about him. And then I swear that you’ll never hear from me again.”

  
As quickly as it appeared, the thunder disappeared from Thor’s expression. His skin grew pale, eyes wide. The raccoon cursed them both.

  
“You two are screwed three different types to hell, you know that?” the racoon demanded, and Loki gave a soft chuckle.

  
“I’ve already died once,” Loki said, “It didn’t really stick. I am really very sorry though. This is my problem, and I shouldn’t have bothered any of you with it but I–”

  
“Loki, please,” Thor begged. Loki allowed the rest of his apology to trail off as he continued to stare wide-eyed at the three of them.

  
“Who are you guys talking to?” another voice asked curiously – human and boring – as he poked his face in the little space the rest of them offered.

  
“Thor’s dead brother,” the racoon supplied, “His very _little_ dead brother.”

  
Loki didn’t miss the slight on his height, but he ignored it. He was starting to realize this was perhaps a mistake.

  
“He looks great for a dead man,” the man supplied.

  
“You’re not helping much Quill,” the raccoon said the same time Groot affirmed, “I am Groot.”

  
Loki gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Groot. I’m glad my brother is still capable of befriending sensible people.”

  
Quill’s eyes widened in surprise as he begun, “He can–”

  
“Old news Quill,” the raccoon brushed him off the same time Thor gave a low genuine chuckle of his own.

  
“We’re turning around to help you Loki,” Thor told him, “Don’t leave the Sanctuary. Don’t go anywhere alone. And close all your windows. Ravens are obnoxious birds.”

  
Loki tilted his head to the side and reminded, “One did restore my memories.”

  
“Loki, please, I need you to stay safe until I can get there,” Thor said, serious in ways he rarely ever was. To Stephen he added, “Witch doctor, don’t let anything further happen to him. I’m placing him in your care.”

  
Then he was gone, blue screen sinking back in the sphere. Stephen gave a soft sigh as if being threatened by Thor was the most casual thing in the world.

  
“Right,” he agreed to no one and then to Loki, “Are you going to be alright here long enough to sleep a couple of hours? You look terrible.”

  
Loki smirked. “Your bedside manner is atrocious – I want you to know that. I’ll be fine. Go. Protect the world or whatever.”

  
Stephen continued to squint disbelievingly at him but he conceded, “Alright,” and shut the door with a soft click on his way out.

  
It was the first time Loki realized how tired he was. Exhaustion pulled on him as he crawled into bed, buried under the sheets and duvet.

  
He woke surrounded by nothing, lying on top of a surface as smooth and reflective as a mirror. Loki blinked down at it; his head began to ache in that familiar way it would each night in France. He couldn’t ever remember these dreams before though.

  
When he rose to his feet a long thin figure spread out across the surface – a mockery of a shadow. The figure was terribly thin – all bones and edges and corners – with a mane of long dark hair. Curled and tangled, making the dark shadows underneath his eyes seem more prominent. It was the smile that unnerved Loki though, pale and fake and too much teeth.

  
“Greetings!” he exclaimed brightly, “Do you remember this time?”

  
Loki stared down at him. He wished he could move from the figure, to escape. Some part of him knew that he couldn’t. That he’d never escape him.

  
The man frowned dramatically, “Guess not. Pity. I do ever enjoy our chats, but they’re beginning to become repetitive. And that’s boring, boring, boring.”

  
“Quite,” Loki agreed.

  
The figure narrowed green eyes – bright and shiny – as he noted, “There’s something different about you. You seem more…”

  
“Aged?” Loki tried politely.

  
“Brave,” the figure finished, “It’s been a couple of minutes, and you’re not crying yet. I’m assuming this means the birds finally caught up with you. That’s good. That’s real good.”

  
Loki perked up at the mention of Hugin and Munin. He tried not to think about them much – nor the crazed sociopath they tend to follow. The figure’s smile stretched up his face, contorting his features as it traveled across too-pale skin.

  
“Do you know what this means, little one?” the figure continued heedlessly, “It means we may actually have a conversation longer than one, one, one minute. Tell me: Do you know what you have to do?”

  
Something about the figure set icy water through Loki’s system – fear, Loki recognized with a sad mental huff. He schooled it well – was Thor’s younger brother and the second prince of Asgard. He had to learn how to keep his emotions from his features.

  
“No,” Loki supplied simply, “but something tells me that you’re going to tell me.”

  
“No, no, no!” the figure exclaimed, “Don’t be like that! Don’t be plain! I thought you clever and you’re failing, failing, failing.”

  
Loki made a face. The figure’s shiny eyes continued to stare at him, and he didn’t look right. Lopsided. It made him appear almost crooked.

  
“So… you’re not going to tell me then?” Loki inquired sweetly, “Pity. I thought our conversation would finally get somewhere.”

  
The figure’s smile dropped as his eyes grew dark. His face still looked uneven but dimmer – more menacing.

  
“Not with you,” the figure said. “You still think there’s senseless things in this world such as hope and love and loyalty. We both know that there’s nothing, nothing, nothing of the sort – only death.”

  
Loki blinked, held up his finger. “You want me to kill.”

  
The figure grinned. Clapped, “You feel it too. Good. I’m glad, glad, glad.”

  
Loki shook his head and proclaimed, “I’m not killing anyone.”

  
He turned away because he didn’t want to look at the crazed face. The figure was smiling back at him from the floor, voice chiding.

  
“You feel it. You know it. Killing is the very thing you were made to do. It’s the only thing.”

  
“No,” Loki repeated, turning back around. The figure rolled his eyes and looked bored, unmoving from Loki’s vision.

  
“I know you feel it,” the figure supplied, “I know, know, know that you know, know, know and soon everyone will be dead, dead, dead because of–”

  
“Me?”

  
The returning smile was all sharp knives and glittering silver. “ _Us_.”

  
Loki woke with a gasp. His brain ached and insides itched and he suddenly understood the discomfort he felt all those days in France. He’d recognize those pale features and green eyes and dark hair – it was him. An older sickly version of him that was either manic or insane. Loki’s future, he thought with a sad twist in his heart.

  
Sleep left him and lying in the bed made him feel hot and crowded. It was still dark outside, and since both Stephen and Wanda seemed like sensible people, they will be asleep. Loki gave a low sigh as he climbed from bed, running his hands through the thick tangles of his hair.

  
There was a soft tap-tap-tap at the window. Loki supposed he’d fallen back into his old ways quickly given that he’d left some things out to his brother. He’d just been so overwhelmed that they’d slipped his mind.

  
Loki moved over to the window – dark bird ceasing it’s insistent pecking against the glass so it could tip its head to the side. He unlatched the locks and lifted the window, bending over so he could hold his arm out for the bird. The bird bounced immediately on his forearm as it nipped affectionately at his fingers.

  
“You look well, old friend,” Loki told the Magpie, reaching out to brush the feathers on the bird’s eyes. “Did you miss me?”

  
The Magpie gave a soft squawk in affirmation. Loki gave a soft chuckle, careful of the bird still on his arm as he shut and re-latched the window.

  
“I missed you too,” Loki affirmed, “It’s been an interesting couple of hours. I’ve finally regained my memories, and I can remember my dreams now.”

  
The Magpie gave a low chirping noise. Loki gave another smile, scratched the bird under its chin. The bird gave him another nip.

  
Loki left to go find the kitchen – halls changing every time he turned a corner. The Magpie gave a low whirring sound, and Loki answered with a soft hum as his fingers began to burn a soft green. The house answered – built on the foundation of a magic so ancient Loki was surprised Midgardians had access to it.

  
It bowed against his gentle nudge, floorplan opening up and leading him to the kitchen. He rubbed his fingers against the threshold in apology. Using magic felt pervy and wrong, especially to something so strong and magnificent.

  
He found some leftovers he warmed up and offered a bit of bread to the Magpie, who ate it grateful. Loki was half-way finished when Stephen found him.

  
“I thought you’d be sleeping,” he noted, gloved hands brushing against the wall as if looking for something.

  
Loki tapped the tongs of his fork against the plate as he hummed, “I can say the same for you.”

  
“Yes,” Stephen agreed, “Well.”

  
He was dressed like he usually was – colorful fabric and heavy red cloak draped over his shoulders. Not at all something people wear whenever they’re thinking about sleep. Loki wasn’t naïve to think that Stephen’s lack of sleep wasn’t because of him.

  
“I’m sorry,” Loki apologized, “I can only imagine how shocking this whole situation is.”

  
Stephen made a face. “Perhaps we should withhold this conversation until later. The bird on the other hand?”

  
Loki handed her another sliver of bread, expression gentle and smile soft, as he explained, “I call her Maggie. I saved her life once. She’s the closest thing to a friend I had in France.”

  
Stephen gave a soft hum as if he understood, taking the seat across from Loki. Maggie pecked at his gloved fingers, asking for attention. Stephen complied, gave a soft _coo_.

  
“She likes you,” Loki said approvingly. They settled in silence but something tugged at Loki’s brain so he asked, “Do you believe in fate, Doctor? That no matter how hard you try or what you do you’ll always end back where you’ve always meant to be?”

  
Stephen idly ran his fingers along Maggie’s dark feathers. Maggie’s eyes were closed as she gave soft clucking sounds. His eyes were dark in thought.

  
“This doesn’t seem hypothetical,” Stephen noted.

  
Loki shrugged and didn’t elaborate. It’s not like him and the doctor were close, and he didn’t need to give him any more reasons not to trust him. They lapsed back into silence, and Loki had lost his appetite so he ducked his head and idly poked at the food on his plate.

  
Beneath him the ground shook as an angry voice exclaimed, “Bring me Loki!”

  
Loki shared a look with Stephen before rushing towards the entrance. This time the house didn’t need his pushing to unwind itself to him.

  
Baldur’s eyes were smoldering, sword in hand. The metal was hot and bright and reflected off the overhead lights. Wanda was already there – standing on the steps, red crackling around her fingers – and Loki knew very few people who could look intimidating in pink pajama pants.

  
Stephen stepped forward, taking his place at her side and they were a formable duo. It should have made Loki feel safe. Instead it left a sour pit in his stomach at the knowledge of him putting people he barely knew at risk.

  
“Leave now!” Wanda commanded sharply, voice hard and sharp, “I won’t be asking again!”

  
Baldur barely glanced at her as he scoffed, “I’m not here for you, little girl. Or the doctor. He,” the tip of the sword pointed at Loki’s chest, “is the one I want.”

  
The ground quivered under his feet. Red magic clouded around Loki’s feet as Wanda gave a low growl, and Loki imagined her blue eyes flashing in warning.

  
“Just try and take him,” she said.

  
“Wanda,” Loki warned the same time Baldur scoffed.

  
“Pity,” he sighed, “I rather liked you.”

  
He leapt forward rearing his sword back. Wanda didn’t flinch. At her side her fingers twitched, one of the tables swinging towards his head. Baldur was forced to swing around, sword slicing through the center of the table as he flipped and landed gracefully back on his feet at the bottom of the steps.

  
The ground continued to shake. Wanda’s fingers burned threateningly, and it should have made Loki feel something other than icy dread. He knew he didn’t deserve her protection, though. He didn’t deserve their kindness.

  
He deserved whatever Baldur was planning for him.

  
“Children, please,” Stephen sighed – sounding old and tired and not at all fazed by the fact that he called someone as ancient as Baldur a child.

  
Maggie nipped his ear. Loki caught himself smiling as he rolled his shoulder, banishing the bird to the banister. He shouldn’t – all things considered – but he was growing rather fond of Stephen and Wanda.

  
“I’m going to kill you both,” Baldur announced, annoyed now, “and I’m going to enjoy it.”

  
He leapt at them. Stephen gave a regrettable sigh, held his arm out to stop Wanda from destroying anymore of his property than she already had, and traced an invisible circle with his free hand. Gold burned and crackled before opening into somewhere bright and dry and covered in sand before snapping to a close after Baldur fell through – mouth devouring its meal.

  
“Nifty trick,” Wanda noted, “but, for the record, I could’ve taken him.”

  
“I’m well aware,” Stephen agreed unironically, “but now is not the time for power plays. Go get dressed. We need to go.”

  
“Go where?” Loki asked without moving.

  
Wanda was the one who smiled – bright and sharp now that she’d gotten some sleep – as she announced, “I know a place.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
“Wanda,” Clint sighed regrettably.

  
The three of them were sitting in Clint’s living room – his wife offering each of them a cup of coffee. When she reached Loki, her eyes grew soft and warm as she asked if he wanted anything to eat. Baldur had successfully spoiled his appetite so he soundlessly shook his head and tried to remain focused on the conversation.

  
She settled for wrapping his shoulders with a quilt, smoothing dark hair on her way back to her husband. Maternal instincts weren’t a new concept to Loki, but its been awhile since he’s experienced it for himself. His chest ached in reminder of Frigga so he closed his eyes and pushed all thoughts of her from his mind.

  
He needed to get himself together. He needed to focus. Baldur was just another brainless problem, and he’s dealt with far worst in the past.

  
He hadn’t been as small or defenseless then, the traitorous part of his brain reminded.

  
Clint was staring at him when he reopened his eyes.

  
“We didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Wanda explained on their behalf, “and it was you who told me that most people are redeemable.”

  
Clint rubbed at his face before reaching up to tug at his hair. He wore a dark long sleeve shirt and even darker pants, and it was clear that they were the only reason he was out of bed. His wife settled on the arm of his chair, taking his hand’s place in smoothing the soft strands back down.

  
“I didn’t mean for you to just show up on my doorstep,” Clint argued, “I have children Wanda.”

  
“Come now sweetie,” his wife chided, “Your family isn’t just a defenseless thing.”

  
Clint’s eyes didn’t soften with the rest of his face as he tipped it to the side to press a firm kiss against her palm. Loki’s insides continued to sour in reminder that he was placing them in danger – that nothing was going to keep Baldur from killing everyone who shows even a sliver of kindness to him.

  
“I’ve called Sam,” Wanda continued, “He’s putting together a safe house. It’s only for a couple of hours, and then we’ll be gone. Promise.”

  
_We_ not Loki or him but _them_. Beside Wanda on the couch Stephen gave an agreeable nod but didn’t jump in, recognized that this was Wanda’s negotiation. Loki didn’t think they knew each other before him, but it was clear that they both respected the other a great deal and that they were both putting everything on the line for him. For Loki.

  
Loki rose to his feet, earning the attention of everyone in the room. He was getting fidgety and nervous and didn’t think he was capable of so much self-loathing.

  
“I’m going for a walk,” he announced, despite the fact that none of them asked.

  
He didn’t wait for anyone to respond.

  
It was still dark but the edge of the sky was beginning to brighten in a mix of pink and orange and yellow as the sun began to make its presence known.

  
Clint’s house was as private and secluded as Loki anticipated from the man. Free from the unnecessary sounds of the city with nothing but rolling hills and soft grassy slopes. His boots crunched dirt and gravel as he started in a random direction away from the house and barn.

  
He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he made several loops around the property before settling on the other side of a wooden fence. He could watch the house from his spot – a silent sentinel for people whose been nothing but accommodating.

  
Loki knew he should disappear, run off in the trees and never look back, and perhaps they wouldn’t even try looking for him. They’d realize they did everything they could and determine that their consciences were clear and move on. Baldur would have no reason to come after them – Loki would make sure of that – and he could stop burdening everyone he comes in contact with.

  
The him before would. He might even throw in a fun betrayal just to spice things up, but that was boring. Tired and overused and – Loki was loathed to admit – something he couldn’t stomach doing to these people. Not after everything else they’ve done for him.

  
Wanda exited the house dressed in jeans and her red jacket. Clint was a step behind, bow slung across his back. He was the one to catch sight of Loki and gave Wanda a soft nudge before gesturing in his direction. Wanda’s expression brightened with relief and she said something to Clint before starting towards him.

  
Clint didn’t follow, but he did settle against a porch beam. His eyes were as unreadable as his expression as he watched.

  
“This spot taken?” Wanda asked when she neared.

  
Loki gestured at the spot next to him, said nothing. Wanda’s smile didn’t leave her face as she settled in the grass beside him. Silence settled between them and it felt like it had with Stephen in the kitchen – comfortable and peaceful and Loki had either been alone longer then he thought or he’d grown fonder of these two quicker than he had with others in the past.

  
“You okay?” Wanda did eventually inquire, crossing her legs over the grass as she watched the sun’s slow creep over the tree line.

  
Loki shrugged, “I’d make some jest about it not being every day some maniac with a sword comes for my head but that wouldn’t be quite true. Baldur is a determined soul.”

  
Wanda scoffed and rolled her eyes and Loki was actually surprised by the rush of affection that jumped up his throat. It softened his usual cynic demeanor as he propped his chin atop the crevice of his knees so he could watch the sunrise.

  
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Wanda promised, “Not while me and Stephen are around at least.”

  
“You seem to have recovered from the shock of my true identity relatively quick,” Loki noted, voice honest.

  
Wanda shrugged, “You’re not the only one who’s tried to destroy the world. People found it within themselves to forgive me and my brother. I figured I can find it within myself to forgive you as well.”

  
The words inflated something warm inside Loki’s chest and made his cheeks burn. He hid it behind his legs.

  
“You’re starting to sound like my brother,” Loki told her and his voice came out dreamier than he meant but he started thinking about Thor so it wasn’t really a surprise.

  
Wanda nodded and was serious when she replied, “I haven’t had the privilege of knowing Thor as long as Barton but he seems wise and strong and a good man.”  
“He’s the best,” Loki affirmed without any humor in his voice. He couldn’t help but smirk and add, “Once he decided to grow up.”

  
Wanda sniffled behind a laugh. Clint was still watching them, but his expression had gone from unreadable to a relieved knowing. It lightened something inside Loki’s chest.

  
“You’re such a younger brother,” Wanda chided, bumping his shoulder a way people haven’t done since he was a teenager and Thor hadn’t gotten the notion that younger siblings were uncool.

  
“Hey!” Loki protested but he was smiling and knew his eyes revealed how much he knew that was true.

  
“I’m just glad you’re not glowering anymore,” Wanda continued, heedless of his protest. “You were starting to look like a frowning Muppet.”

  
“What’s a Muppet?”  
Wanda gawked at him, personally offended. Loki just blinked innocently back up at her, which smoothed her features back out.

  
She looked away and corrected, “I too had once been ignorant, but Stark was always educating people on pop culture. It was truly his super power.”

  
Her words were soft in memory, but her eyes shined in the pain of the recent loss. Loki leaned his cheek back against his knees.

  
“Was it bad?” he asked, “The thing that happened to Stark?”

  
Wanda nodded, voice sad, “It was bad, and I’d be the first to admit not holding fond feelings towards that man but life is often unfair and – in the end – he’d been right. The world needed protecting, and we hadn’t been enough. He deserved better – Natasha as well, but she’d already been gone by the time I returned.”

  
“There’s never any glory in war,” Loki said, “Only death. I’m sorry. I feel like I’m part of the blame – I was the one who took the Tesseract from Asgard. I practically hand delivered it to Thanos.”

  
He expected her to punch him at the confession. To react out in anger but the air didn’t even crackle with her magic.

  
She only looked sadder as she shook her head and supplied, “Thanos would have found a way. I destroyed a stone – crushed it, killing the user – and Thanos still got it.”

  
It was the first time Loki heard of this. Something sank in his chest, and he recognized that look that clouded her blue eyes. They were sad in mourning.

  
“This user that died – you loved him.” It wasn’t a question.

  
Wanda’s face told him everything he needed to know. She couldn’t even avenge her lost loved ones because the responsible party was gone. That Loki understood.

  
“Look at us,” he said after a lapse in silence, “A pair of sad lumps.”

  
“Did you just call me a lump?” Wanda challenged; her tone close to playful.

  
Loki shrugged again as he continued, “And take it from someone who’s seen more wars then years you’ve been alive – the best thing survivors can do is live in the world the dead left for them.”

  
“Yeah,” Wanda agreed mindlessly. “It doesn’t make this any easier.”

  
“No,” Loki hummed, “It doesn’t.”

  
They were interrupted by the sound of crunching gravel and Baldur’s angry exclamation, “I’m growing impatient, little cousin!”

  
Clint had an arrow directed at the man, and Wanda was on her feet using her body to separate Loki from the threat. Loki cursed in an ancient language not even Thor knew.  
“This man is starting to poke a nerve,” Wanda snarled furiously, fingers flashing red; Loki felt himself inclined to agree.

  
“You are trespassing on private property!” Clint shouted, “I’ll give you five seconds before you become a human pincushion.”

  
Baldur scoffed, “I’m far greater than any Midgardian ever hopes to be, and I’m not here for you. I’m here for–”

  
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You’re not my first evil monologue, buddy!” Clint interrupted, unmoving, “You’ve got three seconds now.”

  
Loki shuffled uncertainly. Stephen and Clint’s wife stepped out from the door, somewhere behind a child asking what was happening. Loki was reminded that he was putting someone else’s family at risk – that whatever happened to these people was his fault.

  
The ground beneath his boots began to shake as Baldur continued towards them, away from the house and the children and Maggie perched on Stephen’s shoulder because she’d taken a liking to him. A little wonder considering the handful of peanuts he was holding.

  
Wanda wasn’t offering any warnings, and Baldur was eyeing her like a legitimate obstacle he was going to have to pass. It made him pause, consider his options and he turned back to the house.

  
“This is my counteroffer,” Baldur shouted, “Come with me Loki or I’ll kill them all, and I’ll start with the littlest one.”

  
Clint’s face hardened, reminding Loki of the storms his brother calls upon, but his hands remained steady and Loki knew from experience that his aim was true.

  
Behind him Stephen whispered something to Clint’s wife before he flickered gold spheres over his palms and fingers. They weren’t going to make it easy for Baldur to get to the people inside. Baldur would, though, without a second thought.

  
Baldur took a step towards the house.

  
Loki slipped around Wanda so he was the one standing in front as he shouted, “Stop!”

  
Baldur did, expression almost bored as he turned back towards him as he raised his eyebrow impatiently. Wanda caught Loki’s arm to reel him back towards her. He didn’t fight her but managed to keep himself between her and Baldur.

  
“Loki, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in a soft hiss.

  
Loki gave her the bright smile he used to trick Thor when they’d been younger as he replied, “I’ve got to earn my forgiveness. It’ll be okay.”

  
Wanda’s gripped tightened. “No. It won’t be. Not if you go with him.”

  
Loki settled his hand over hers and promised, “It will be, Wanda.”

  
Wanda’s eyes were shining, but she must have believed him because she let go. Loki gave her another smile he didn’t feel before he turned back to Baldur.

  
“I’ll go!” Loki declared, “and you’ll leave them all alone!”

  
Baldur smiled – teeth sharp and bright – but Loki knew that he would. Killing Midgardians was boring, the equivalent of stepping on ants. Baldur only every considered the idea because Loki cared about their lives.

  
“You’ve always been weak, little cousin,” Baldur chided him as Loki stepped beside him.

  
“Yeah. Well,” Loki said – shoulders stiff and back straight. He wasn’t going to beg for his life, not after he’d already won everyone else’s.

  
Clint wasn’t one to leave things unsaid so he demanded, “You sure about this Loki?”

  
“I am,” Loki promised, refusing to wince as Baldur took hold of his arm and jerked him to his side. He met Wanda’s gaze and repeated, “It’ll be okay.”

  
Her face was the last thing he saw before the world shifted, flipping itself upside down before righting itself. Wind whipped at his hair and skin in a poor attempt to make him cold, the temperature dropping around him. They were still on Earth – Loki could feel it seeping inside his bones and muscles. It calmed the warring storm internally beating against him, and he couldn’t remember why he’d ever hated this place.

  
Baldur was still holding his arm in an iron grasp, and his cheeks and nose had grown red from the cold. He didn’t seem bothered by the snow surrounding them – coming to Loki’s knees – as Baldur started them towards the only definite shape. A tall jagged lump of rocks set directly in front of them.

  
“Why does this place look familiar?” Loki asked, allowing himself to be drug along.

  
“I’m surprised you don’t recognize this place, considering your part to blame for her punishment,” Baldur noted and Loki felt the click inside his brain.

  
Loki tested Baldur’s hold as cold dread begun to fill him. Baldur’s fingers just tightened, refusing to offer him any give.

  
“Last I checked, Skadi was the one that attacked us,” Loki said, “She’d skewed poor Volstagg, and it had been Thor’s idea. He wanted to see if the snow really never melted.”

  
It had been one of the things Loki found Sif agreeing with him on – that it was too dangerous and stupid and pointless. Thor, however, had been a master of getting Sif to do what he wanted, and Loki was drug along because he wanted his brother’s friends to like him and not think of him as a coward.

  
There had been a reason Skadi lived alone, and she did not enjoy visitors. Loki remembered the way the giantess had faded in and out of the shadows – silent and dangerous and something Thor refused to take seriously until a spear longer than Loki pierced itself inside Volstagg’s chest. Centimeters from his heart, the healers would later inform them, and they were lucky he survived the trip back.

  
Loki had been the one closest to Volstagg when he’d been struck – he wasn’t sure why except that out of all of Thor’s friends he seemed like the one who could tolerate him the most. Perhaps that was why it took several weeks of sleepless nights before Loki was able to forget the noise of the spear piercing through flesh and bone or the soft breathless gasp of pain as he crumpled into the snow. Or the way the blood was hot against his skin as he covered the wound and pushed strength into the warrior, screaming for the others.

  
Thor, whenever he made his way towards them, grew pale and panicked and he must have initially thought the blood had been Loki’s because he’d pulled him away and demanded to know where he was hurt.

  
His brother and his friends weren’t there today, and Odin wasn’t around to banish the giantess again. It was just Loki and Baldur dragging him up the slope of the mountain. Loki didn’t bother looking for Skadi – knowing he wouldn’t see her until she wanted to be seen.

  
Instead he asked, “How’d you and the giantess meet?”

  
“I found her after your dear old dad exiled me like some common criminal,” Baldur snarled, voice angry even after all this time.

  
Loki allowed his fury to fuel his own internal fire as he reminded, “You almost killed Thor. She almost killed Volstagg.”

  
“And yet,” Baldur gave him a violent shake, “you attempted to destroy the world and got nothing more than a slap on the wrist.”

  
“So…you’re here to offer me a fitting punishment?” Loki asked, feeling as if he was beginning to understand. “Something like you and her had to deal with?”

  
Baldur shook him so hard Loki’s brain rattled. It was a warning, but Loki no longer thought they were going to execute him. Death would have been too easy, and they’d have to live all these years in shame. They wanted Loki to feel the same, and they wanted him to know why.

  
“I can tell you’ve put a lot of thought in this,” Loki noted as a pair of ravens began to circle above them. “This won’t make you feel better, though. It won’t change anything.”

  
“Oh, I assure you,” Baldur hissed as they finally reached the summit, “This is going to make me feel elated.”

  
Baldur pulled him to a stop at the lip of the cave. Loki squinted but couldn’t see past the dark shadows reflected from the jagged surfaces.

  
“Is this him?” a woman’s voice demanded from the side.

  
Loki tipped his head to the side, watched the shadows melt away from her features. She was the same as he remembered – large shoulders and thick hips covered in tanned animal hide. Skadi kept her dark hair long and free, cascading over dark skin until it reached her hips.

  
Her facial features weren’t attractive, but Loki had never thought of them as ugly either. She seemed unapologetically plain. Loki could have found respect in that if not for the reminded of the wet thunk of a spear piecing flesh and the blood that stained the snow and his hands and small whimpers as Volstagg bled out. She didn’t have her spear now, but her dark eyes were sharp enough to cut flesh. She didn’t look happy to see him, but it’s been several years since anyone’s looked at Loki with anything except contentment.  
“He hasn’t grown?” Skadi demanded harshly.

  
“You look well too, Skadi,” Loki replied.

  
Skadi growled, deep and almost feral. She closed the distance until she loomed over him, which wasn’t much of an accomplishment considering she stood almost eight feet tall.

  
“I could turn your bones into dust with my fist,” Skadi snarled down at him, “I could crush your skull like a grape.”

  
Loki didn’t back down as he said, “Except you won’t because that’s too simple and boring.”

  
Baldur gave him another shake. Loki clamped his teeth shut in his annoyance, green eyes flashing but his magic failed him. Skadi smirked back down at him.

  
“You can’t use your magic here,” she told him, “so there’s no escaping from this.”

  
Loki still didn’t falter. Baldur had to forcibly drag him deeper in the cave. They stopped at a wall with three rocks sitting in a triangle shape. Baldur settled him in the center of the rocks, pressed on his shoulder until he was on his knees.

  
“Feel free to tell me when this hurts,” Skadi said – almost gleeful – as she unwound long wire thinner than a strand of hair.

  
The wire bit into his skin and made blood spill over but Loki didn’t give either of them the satisfaction of revealing his pain. She bound a wire around one of his wrists, tethering him to one of the rocks. She repeated the motion with his other wrist before tying his ankles together and connecting them to the last rock – the tip of the triangle.  
Loki scoffed as she straightened back up, reaching for the last wire. The sight actually made him uncomfortable, but he’s always hid his discomfort well.

  
“Something funny, little cousin?” Baldur asked, smile in his voice.

  
Skadi stopped behind him. He heard the cord snap before his head tilted back, wire biting into the soft skin of his neck. Loki ground the back of his molars together, water gathering in the corners of his eyes as he was forced in the uncomfortable position of his head tilted backwards.

  
“This it?” Loki gritted out.

  
“No,” Skadi reassured, shadow falling on him.

  
She reached for the rock above him. Dust rained in Loki’s face and he made a small noise of protest. Baldur crouched behind his head.

  
“You know I’ve always thought you talk too much,” he whispered into Loki’s ear before he shoved a ball in his mouth, clasping the clips of the gag together behind his head. “Much better.”

  
Skadi moved away. Dust continued to rain on top of him as something slithered over his head. Loki’s muscles went taut as the triangle shape came into view, golden slits staring down at him. His sharp cry of alarm was muffled by the gag.

  
“So you recognize this then?” Skadi asked, sounding pleased – and, on the mountain with his brother’s friend bleeding out beneath him, Loki never thought of the giantess as a petty creature.

  
Now he wasn’t so sure. Not when he remembered why this punishment had been banished, replaced by exile. Blood dripped freely from his wrists and ankles and neck, staining the shirt Stephen had loaned him and he had to force himself to relax.

  
He could only stare helplessly as the serpent opened its mouth, fangs glittering like poisonous diamonds, and it was a testimony to his refusal to show them just how frightened he was that he didn’t scream at the first drop.

  
The venom struck the corner of his eyes. He could hear the skin sizzle and burn. The next drop was between his eyes.

  
Barbaric, Odin had called it as he ignored the excited way Thor’s entire face lit up.

  
Outside, thunder rolled when a drop hit his right eye. Loki screamed.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Loki’s magic wasn’t hard to track, even as faint as it was. Clint moved around the small space of his house, wife disappearing upstairs to prevent their children from eavesdropping. Stephen understood the agitation – felt it himself – but he knew from the dark look Wanda had adapted that she was in silent agreement with him.

  
“We can handle this,” Stephen said, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  
Clint stopped from tucking a long-jagged knife into his sock to glare up at him. Stephen didn’t move, knew they were wasting time by talking about it.  
“You’re benching me?” Clint demanded.

  
Stephen didn’t shrug or offer his condolences for being pushed aside in favor of others stronger or quicker than himself. This wasn’t about power. This was about Loki being kidnapped, and they needed to proceed smartly.

  
“Thor is on his way to find his brother here,” Stephen explained, “as well as Wilson and, perhaps, Barnes. We need someone to stay behind to direct them in the appropriate direction.”

  
Clint still didn’t look impressed. Stephen hadn’t expected him too – was aware of his soft-spot for children. A thing, Stephen imagined, that stemmed from his own kids.

  
“That’s just a fancy way to say you’re benching me,” Clint protested, “In case you’ve forgotten I’ve been dealing with alien threats back when you was still in med-school.”

  
Stephen didn’t move, arms crossed. He didn’t even blink. This wasn’t a thing up for debate, and he knew that Wanda felt much the same.

  
“This isn’t personal Barton,” Wanda sighed.

 

Clint swung towards her and snarled, “Like hell it is. You both don’t think I can handle this.”

  
Stephen’s dark gaze settled on his bow before he conceded, “We’re not planning on staying long enough to start a fight. Loki will require immediate medical attention, and I will feel better knowing there will be a place waiting for us.”

  
Clint’s expression remained unmoved and unimpressed.

  
“We don’t have time for this,” Wanda sighed, stepping beside Stephen, “We’ll be back before you know it Barton. Promise.”

  
Thunder roared outside. The sound drew Clint’s attention away from them as he moved towards the door. He was cautious in his movements, knife still in his hand.

  
“You going to ask him to sit on the bench?” Clint asked, smug. Thor nearly tore the door from its hinges in his rush inside, discolored eyes near frantic as they sought out his brother.

  
When they didn’t find him, his attention snapped to Stephen. Stephen felt the lack of sleep start to unwind the edges of his sanity – even as Clint caught Thor around the chest, making a soft shushing sound.

  
“We’re going to get your brother,” Clint reassured, “Loki will be fine.”

  
Thor still looked distraught by the reminded that his recently revived brother was in trouble – again – and that the three of them seemed to be standing around discussing the most appropriate course of action. Stephen didn’t fault him on that. He felt much the same.

  
“Why are we still discussing it then?” Thor demanded, air crackling with static. “Come on, Wizard.”

  
Voices echoed outside – soft and nervous and apparently never seen Thor in such a mood. It was the first for Stephen as well, and it would have been unnerving to have it directed at him with such ferocity, but he was otherwise preoccupied by his concern for Loki.

  
Wanda opened her mouth to further her protests but Stephen interrupted her with a soft, “Alright.”

  
He closed his eyes, regained his sense on Loki and opened a portal before Wanda got a chance to call him weak for caving so quickly. Thor didn’t glance at him, axe in hand and sparks popping from dark armor. Clint was close behind, smirking victoriously.

  
“What’re you doing, Strange?” Wanda demanded.

  
“What’s done is done,” Stephen told her simply.

  
She gave him another look but didn’t push the matter. He knew she was just eager to rescue Loki and hadn’t wanted to put anyone else at risk. It was too late for all that now, however, and he nudged her towards the portal with the back of his hand.

  
“We’ll just wait here then,” a voice – one of Thor’s companions – decided by the door.

  
Stephen gave him – short, dark blonde hair and confused frown – a nod before stepping through the portal and allowing it to snap closed behind him.

  
Thor had a woman by her neck, axe buried in her chest. Her dark eyes were burning in abhorrence as he pressed her into the wall. He didn’t even seem bothered by the spear pierced through his shoulder.

  
A glance around confirmed that Wanda had disappeared along with Baldur, but the ground was giving soft quivers beneath his feet. Normally, he would have felt at least sorry for Baldur but one look at Loki and any pretense of pity shriveled up and died.

  
He was bound, pale skin smeared with blood. His head was forced backwards so he could gaze up at the green snake leaning over the rocky surface. Its mouth was open, light reflecting from its fangs. _No_ , his brain corrected, _not fangs. Poison._

  
Stephen reached out, arm swinging in a graceful arc. He was too far to hear the wet crunch of bone severing away from bone as the snake’s body grew limp. The head – expression caught in the last it wore in life – tumbled down towards Loki’s prone form.

  
Clint caught it without looking as he knelt at Loki’s side. He tossed the snake head to the side with one hand while his other unsheathed the knife in his sock. He sliced the wire around his neck binding him to the ground before freeing his wrists.

  
Loki immediately went limp. Clint caught him, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other came around his neck. His hand pushed against Loki’s ear as he guided him into the space beneath his neck and Clint’s expression seemed bothered when Stephen squatted next to them.

  
“His skin is burning,” Clint informed him – pale and wild-eyed but he wasn’t drifting in shock so Stephen let him be.

 

“It’s the poison,” Stephen affirmed, reaching out to take Loki’s head in either of his hands.

  
Loki’s entire neck rolled limply. His eyes were open but they seemed glassy and unfocused while the skin around them had grown red and swollen. Stephen felt a weight leave his shoulders as his cloak came to wrap around thin shoulders.

  
Thor and the woman had disappeared – presumably to wherever Wanda was at the moment. Clint was staring at him, waiting for him to start doctoring – to fix Loki. If Loki was human then there wouldn’t be much to consider: he’d be forever blind, his skin around his eyes and the lesions from the wire would forever be scarred. Loki would just have to settle on his life.

  
Loki wasn’t human, though, and even through his gloves Stephen could feel the heat of his magic attempting to knit himself back together. It was making his skin burn.

  
“He needs ice or something,” Stephen announced. “To drop his temperature.”

  
“Alright,” Clint agreed.

  
Clint readjusted his grip, allowing the cloak to wrap itself around his small figure. He didn’t even waver as he rose back to his feet and taking Loki’s limp form with him. Loki gave a low groan – lips red and swollen from the gag discarded by the rocks.

  
He moved with purpose, starting for the mouth of the cave. It reminded Stephen of the mountains he’d been abandoned on while learning how to unlock his magic. Clint didn’t look bothered by the cold or the air blowing around them as he knelt down in the snow.

  
Clint burrowed Loki in the snow, who didn’t even shiver at the cold. Stephen crouched down beside them, making sure that Loki’s wrists, ankles, neck and eyes were covered. Clint watched with a careful expression.

  
“He’s a Jotun and – according to all my research – their magic thrives in the cold,” Stephen explained as he continued to pull the snow over Loki’s burning skin.

  
“You’re hoping this will enhance his enough to heal him from this,” Clint muttered, almost to himself. His face looked thoughtful.

  
Stephen nodded anyways. “Granted I don’t have much experience, but the wounds are relatively new and Loki’s magic is stronger than anything I’ve ever come across.”

  
Clint rose to his feet, hand running down his face, as he said, “He doesn’t look all that strong now.”

  
“No,” Stephen agreed, unmoving from Loki’s side.

  
Clint cursed and shivered. The cloak, that had moved back to Stephen’s shoulders after they begun burying Loki in the snow, curled tighter around him to protect him from the whipping wind.

  
“I hate this,” Clint admitted out loud without really meaning to, “I hate feeling powerless. I hate watching people get hurt – even Loki. Son of a–”

  
“Loki will be fine,” Stephen promised, ears prickling at a noise outside of the wind beating around them. “We have two other issues at the moment.”

  
The ravens Loki called Hugin and Munin circled above them. Stephen’s magic warmed his fingers, beginning to thaw them back out. Beside him, Clint growled. He unshouldered his bow and didn’t have to search the air long before firing an arrow at one of them.

  
It struck it through the chest, then the next one. Clint’s attention was turned back towards Loki before the second one begun to fall, and Stephen was impressed. He hid it well and was aware of the man’s skills from the research he’s conducted, but it was different seeing it in real life.

  
“Come on, kid,” he murmured at Loki’s side, “We’ve already lost too many people. No more.”

  
Stephen silently agreed. He hadn’t known Stark long – didn’t know Natasha at all – but he knew enough. He knew they were good people. Strong and willing to sacrifice a lot for the stake of others and their deaths were undeserved. There was nothing any of them could do about it now, though.

  
Loki’s fingers twitched at the words. He otherwise remained motionless, even at the sound of thunder crackling above them. Clint didn’t look up either.

  
Wanda was the one who joined them first – several moments later. She wasn’t shivering but her cheeks and nose was rosy from the wind. Blue eyes were frantic as she took in the three of them.

  
“How is he doing?” Wanda demanded.

  
Stephen didn’t offer any promises. Christine had used to tease him about his bedside manner, but he’d shrugged it off and told her that he didn’t care. He was beginning to understand what she’d been talking about.

  
Clint grabbed her shoulder, standing beside her. Wanda got it as she gave a deep sigh and knelt into the snow across from Stephen’s own spot beside Loki. Her face was pale, and she didn’t flinch as Thor finally rejoined them.

  
“What happened?” Thor demanded – anger directed back towards Stephen. “I told you to protect him, Wizard.”

  
Clint stepped between them, hand back on Thor’s chest. Thor stalled to a stop, eyes still bright and burning, but valued Clint enough to allow him to speak. His words were snatched by the wind, though, so Stephen wasn’t sure what he said.

  
“Is there nothing more we can do?” Wanda’s voice asked, drawing his attention towards her.

  
“Mixing magic could be dangerous,” Stephen explained, “Loki’s strong.”

  
“I just hate feeling so useless,” Wanda admitted to him, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have finished Baldur off so quickly.”

  
Stephen hummed. Loki chose then to make a soft noise before he lurched upright, skin a soft blue and eyes a bright red color. The sight made Thor pause – not used to his brother in Loki’s true form, the form of his enemy – and even Clint blinked in shock.

  
Stephen felt the weight leave his shoulders as the cloak wrapped back around Loki protectively. Loki startled under the touch – gaze wide as he blinked at Wanda and then Stephen – and a soft smile creased his features.

  
“I actually don’t need anything to protect me from the cold,” he whispered softly, earning a wet chuckle from Wanda and breathy laugh from him.

  
Loki grinned back at them – a weak thing – and Wanda offered her hand to help him back to his feet. He accepted it and his skin turned pale as blue hair turned dark. Loki blinked green eyes in shock as he let go to fall back into the snow.

  
“I–” he choked off.

  
Stephen reached out to take his shoulder and elbow in his hands, helping guide him to his feet and he was reminded why Christine’s teasing about his bedside manner never surpassed just teasing. When needed he could be gentle and kind, especially with children. That last part was shocking him.

  
“Don’t speak if it hurts,” he said, “Take your time. You were in quite the ordeal.”

  
Loki’s found him as Stephen frowned. He kept one of his hands against Loki’s elbow as he raised his other so his finger was inches from his face.

  
“I’m going to need you to follow my finger with your eyes for me. Okay?” Stephen prodded and at Loki’s nod he began moving.

  
“What’re you looking for?” Wanda asked from Loki’s other side, fingers tight against his skin.

  
Stephen didn’t answer. Loki’s eyes followed well and Stephen gave him a gentle smile as he dropped his hand back to his side.

  
“It’s too early to say for certain, but I believe you’ll be able to retain your eyesight,” Stephen reassured, clapping his hand against Loki’s shoulder before he was shoved away by Thor.

  
“Loki,” he breathed, taking in Loki’s face and then his neck before settling on his wrists. His touch was gentle, as if afraid of further breaking him.

  
“Hey Thor,” Loki replied back. Then softer, “I guess this is the part where I say something clever, and you berate me about pretending to be dead.”

  
Thor gave a deep laugh even as he shook his head and promised, “Not this time Loki.”

  
He drew him to his chest, giving his forehead a firm kiss before he wrapped him in his arms with the clear intention of not letting him go anytime soon. Clint’s nose had started to purple and Wanda was shaking now, though, so Stephen figured they’ve spent enough time on this mountain.

  
“Alright,” he announced, “It’s about time to get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

  
Loki was asleep on the couch, head propped in Wanda’s lap. Her fingers slipped through his dark hair as he breathed gently in sleep. Thor was at his feet, fingers curled around his ankles and, whenever Loki would make a soft sound of discomfort, he’d reach out to sub his knee soothingly.

  
Clint was in his chair, quilt wrapped around his shoulders. He was still shivering, which was something Wanda understood well. It almost made her envy Loki, as he’d seemed unbothered by the cold, but his skin was still red from where the wire had bit into it.

  
She should have dismantled Baldur slower. She should have made him hurt longer. She should have, but she’d been impatient to ensure that Loki was okay so she hadn’t.

  
Stephen was flittering around the room, offering hot water bottles to help bring up their temperature. It was so amusing, and she knew he was a doctor and that was probably what was happening but it reminded her of a dad. Clint was thinking much the same as he continued to whine and complain, begging for Stephen’s attention between filling Sam and Steve’s friend, Bucky, in on what had happened.

  
“Any ideas on what to do next?” Sam asked after Clint finished. His eyes kept flickering towards Loki apprehensively, which was smart because Loki was still Loki. “We can’t just let him run around freely.”

  
“He will come with me,” Thor stated brazenly, almost instantly. “I’ll watch him.”

  
Wanda’s chest ached at the thought of Loki leaving Earth. All the people she knew that left rarely returned and only for life-altering events. And it felt almost childish – how fond she’d grown of Loki – but she enjoyed his company and cared for him.

  
“I wouldn’t advise travel,” Stephen said. At Thor’s incredulous expression he corrected, “Not for several weeks, at least. He needs rest.”

  
“Under what authority?” Thor demanded.

  
“No authority,” Stephen replied evenly and she was impressed on how well he handled Thor. He met Thor’s gaze as he bent by Loki’s side to check his pulse and reminded, “but I am a doctor, and I was a damn good one at that.”

  
Thor pursed his lips but his hands stilled. His face looked troubled, and Loki must have sensed it because he gave a low murmur. Wanda massaged his temples in hope of chasing away his discomfort.

  
“I’ll watch him,” Wanda offered instantly, didn’t have to look to see Clint’s disapproving furrow.

  
“I thought you were starting school soon,” he protested; she’d almost forgotten about Cooper Union – college seeming trivial after everything else that’s happened.

  
“I can do both,” she reassured smoothly, “He’s not a puppy, Barton.”

  
Clint made a skeptical face as he protested, “We literally just had to rescue him from being almost murdered.”

  
“They had no intention of killing my brother,” Thor corrected, “but Barton has a point. I can’t just leave him defenseless – no offense.”

  
“Loki survived without any memories and alone for five years,” Bucky reminded them, eyes dark in deep thought. “I don’t think him being defenseless is the problem. I’m also not sure we should let him free in the rest of the universe.”

  
“Loki is a prince–” Thor started to protest.

  
“Thor, look at him,” Clint interrupted, sounding sad and old and some of that transferred over to Thor because his gaze focused back down on Loki. “He’s not the same brother that you lost. Something brought him back, and it brought him to Earth. Do you really think it’s wise to take him away?”

  
Thor’s jaw popped, but Clint was making sense. He usually did when he spoke, but was often overlooked in favor of other Avengers. Thor heard him, though, and it made him pause. Wanda was grateful Clint didn’t remind everyone that Wanda was young herself and has yet to find an apartment in New York City that she could afford.  
Stark had offered to pay whatever she found, but he was gone now and it felt tasteless to ask his family for anything – especially considering the whole mess with Rodgers several years ago.

  
“We should discuss this later,” Sam decided for them, “Loki at least deserves to have a say in his future.”

  
The conversation teetered to a stop after that. Stephen was called back to Clint and he snorted in amusement but hadn’t been lying about being a good doctor. Sam and Bucky turned to each other to whisper amongst themselves, so Wanda turned her attention to Loki.

  
She didn’t realize she was humming until Thor asked, “What is that song?”

  
Her fingers didn’t cease their gentle movements against his scalp as she replied, “I’m not sure. My mother used to hum it to me and my brother before bed. It brought us comfort when we were children.”

  
“It’s nice,” Thor affirmed. “I’m glad you were the one to find my brother.”

  
Wanda felt her cheeks burn with a blush. She tipped her head, hoping to conceal it with her red curls as she re-fixed her attention on Loki.

  
“I’m glad he was found,” Wanda said after a moment, “I’ve grown quite fond of him in a short time. It’s surprising.”

  
Thor gave her a kind smile and his voice was comforting, “There’s nothing wrong with having a kind heart. You are a good person. I need to check on my companions. Things tend to explode when they’re around.”

  
He didn’t move as he continued to stare down at Loki. Wanda gave him a smile of her own, understood the look Loki wore whenever he’d thought of his brother now. He would have been a good king but was a better friend.

  
“Go,” she reassured, “I’ve got him.”

  
“Of that I have no doubt,” Thor affirmed, but he rose to his feet and disappeared outside.

  
Loki opened his eyes and asked, “Is he gone?”

  
Wanda frowned at him but let Loki sit upright. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and it was surprisingly steady despite the red circles marring his thin wrists. Too thin, he needed to eat more.

  
“He’s worried about you,” she told him but understood where he was coming from.

  
She herself had once been a younger sibling. She’d had her own overprotective brother and knew how suffocating their well-meaning overbearing could become. She’s also seen Thor rip people apart with nothing but his hands one too many times to not host a healthy reserve towards him.

  
Thor is not a man one pisses off lightly.

  
Loki had seemed to have made it his life mission to push every button Thor owned, and do it with that annoyingly innocent expression of his.

  
“He means well,” Loki agreed, “and I wish to do right by him, but our paths diverged. Thor knows this and had accepted it before I was – you know.”

  
Something sharp twisted in her chest at the reminder that he’d died once. “Yeah. I know.”

  
Loki glanced the door as something occurred to him. He tipped his head to the side, as if listening for something, before he rose to his feet.

  
“Perhaps I should speak with him,” he offered, “I would like to thank you all for coming for me in that cave, though. None of you were required to put your lives at risk but you did, and I am grateful for it.”

  
Clint – a turtle underneath his covers and heated bottles – reassured quickly, “That’s what heroes do, kid.”

  
Loki gave a soft chuckle as he noted, “You’ve been spending too much time with my brother. Thank you. For being his friend.”

  
That Clint hadn’t been expecting. He blinked, taken aback, but Loki’s gaze was focused back on door. Wanda wondered what he was hearing.

  
“Thor never said it out loud,” Loki continued, “but it’s difficult for him to make friends. It was hard, knowing who wanted to be your friend when you’re a prince. It’s nice – knowing that he managed to find such a loyal group here.”

  
Wanda was almost worried Clint would say the wrong thing at _that_.

  
What he said was, “Thor’s not a prince here.”

  
Loki smiled. “He’s not really a prince anywhere now it seems. That doesn’t make the feat of what you did for my brother – how you helped shape him into the person he is today – any lesser of an accomplishment.”

  
He didn’t wait for Clint to respond, moving towards the door. Wanda shifted in her seat so she could watch from the corner of the window. Thor was standing by a ship, talking to a raccoon and giant tree. He still looked nervous but had his back to the door so missed Loki stopping at the foot of the stairs.

  
The raccoon noticed the moment Loki slipped outside – Wanda saw the way his eyes shifted before returning back to Thor. He didn’t direct Thor’s attention towards his brother, a wicked glint adopting his expression. It was the tree who pointed over Thor’s shoulder.

  
Thor turned, looking confused, and then froze. Loki gave him a shy smile before gesturing to the side, and Thor was quick to nod his head. He stepped forward, eager to close the distance between them. Loki’s eyes turned to a soft mossy green as he started down the gravel path.

  
“Spy anything interesting?” Clint asked her teasingly.

  
She turned back to him and shrugged, rising to her feet to go find Stephen. She hadn’t noticed him disappear, but in the short time she’s known him has grown to realize he was flighty. He stood out in small gatherings and was also on the move – looking for something to keep him busy.

  
“Just focus on getting warm,” she replied on her way past.

  
Wanda found Stephen in the kitchen. He was organizing the Barton’s cereal boxes according to their sugar content.

  
“Clint would probably let you have a bowl,” she told him, “All you have to do is ask.”

  
Stephen forced himself to stop what he was doing so he could turn towards her. He still looked troubled by something, which was weird considering how calm he was whenever Thor’s wrath had borne down on him. He was a strange man, but Wanda’s learned she was most comfortable around the strange.

  
“I haven’t had this stuff since I started med-school,” Stephen said. “Is there something I can do for you Wanda?”

  
Wanda gave him a knowing smirk.

 

* * *

 

  
Very few people knew that when Thor became over-eager about something, he turned into a blubbering fool who couldn’t string a coherent thought together. It was a thing Loki had always found himself annoyed with when they had both been younger. Now, he was charmed.

  
“You don’t have to speak Thor,” Loki promised him, interrupting his rambling.

  
“I’m sorry,” Thor apologized –twenty times, Loki’s kept count – and his discolored eyes were so bright and serious and anxious.

  
“You don’t have to apologize to me either,” Loki sighed, “I – I’m just happy you’re here. I thought for certain you’d want nothing to do with me after everything–”

  
Thor caught his elbow, careful to avoid his wrists, and slowed them to a stop. Loki let him and wasn’t surprised to find himself avoiding Thor’s earnest gaze. Ever since his attack on New York he’s felt out-of-place in Thor’s life. It had probably started happening before that, but it was easier to think that he’d been the one to provoke the distance that’s grown between them.

  
“Loki, do you think me angry at you?” Thor asked, voice pained at the thought.

  
Loki shrugged but didn’t pull back. He wanted to stay with Thor as long as fate allowed – knew they were going to have to part before the day was over – but allowed himself to linger in this moment with Thor a moment longer. The sun was out, reflecting off Thor’s blonde hair and highlighting his troubled features.

  
Loki gave a low sigh. “Are you not? I’ve completed yet another ‘surprise, I’m not dead’ act on you. How many more until you grow tired of me?”

  
Thor’s fingers tightened around his elbow for a fraction of a second before loosening, rubbing in soft apology. Most people didn’t realize that no matter how aggressive Thor seemed he was just as capable of being gentle.

  
“Loki, I could never grow tired of you,” Thor reassured, “and – technically – that last time didn’t count as a surprise because you actually did die. You were reincarnated.”

  
The sick pale face flashed through Loki’s mind. The way it peered up at him, asking if he understood what he needed to do: become the killer he was always meant to be.

  
Loki turned to start back down the trail. Thor allowed him, could keep pace with him easily with his long adult legs. Loki missed being an adult. Being tall and graceful and didn’t need his brother to slow his steps just to stay by his side.

  
“About that,” Loki said, “I’ve been having weird dreams of late. It’s – uh – disconcerting and I – uh – how much do you believe in fate Thor?”

  
Thor made a face, and it was a testimony to how much he’s grown that he didn’t offer any immediate childish reassurances. “What kind of dreams, Loki?”

  
Loki shrugged, wasn’t sure how to explain to his brother that he was seeing a maniac version of himself telling him that he needed to kill everything that moved. It made his head ache just thinking about it. Thor seemed to understand.

  
“Loki?” he asked without really pressing the issue, face worried.

  
“It’s not like that, Thor,” even though that’s exactly what it was like. “I was just curious is all.”

  
Thor’s chuckle was lifeless as he noted, “You’re slacking, brother. I didn’t believe that lie at all.”

  
“I think it’s less about me slacking and more about you growing,” Loki commented, smiling up at his brother.

  
Odin’s beard, he’s missed him.

  
“Oh and now a compliment,” Thor affirmed, “What has gotten into you Loki?”

  
“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve just missed you?” Loki asked and at Thor’s look he gave a breathy chuckle, “Thought so. It is true, though.”

  
Thor reached out to set a hand against his shoulder as he replied, “I’ve missed you too, Loki. What’re you not saying?”

  
“I think I should stay here,” Loki told him, “and I think you should leave. I’ve got a lot of growing up to do if I ever want to catch up with you.”

  
Thor still looked troubled, but he didn’t protest like he had with the others. Loki knew he wouldn’t because he’s always let Loki get away with more than he’s allowed anyone else. It didn’t make the knowledge of their parting any easier.

  
“You don’t have to catch up to my maturing rate,” Thor told him, “It isn’t a competition.”

  
Loki allowed his smile to grow bright with mischief as he replied, “Haven’t you heard, Thor? We’re brothers. Everything’s a competition.”

  
Thor seemed surprised by the chuckle that escaped his mouth as he nodded and affirmed, “We’ll always be brothers, Loki, and don’t think that getting me off Earth is going to change anything. I expect a daily call from you. I want to know everything that happens to you.”

  
Loki tilted his head to the side. He didn’t say it but the words brought him comfort – knowing that even if Thor was going that he would still stubbornly attempt to insert himself in Loki’s life any way he could. Loki was impressed that his emotions didn’t strangle him.

  
“And if nothing happens?” Loki asked.

  
It was Thor’s turn to give him a mirthful smile as he clapped his back – careful of Loki’s neck –and replied, “Oh, Loki. Something always happens whenever you’re around.”

  
Loki smiled, and they lapsed into casual conversation as they walked the loop around Clint’s house. It was the first time it seemed they didn’t have anywhere they needed to go and could just enjoy the other’s company. It was nice.

  
Wanda and Stephen were waiting for them outside Clint’s house. They were smiling – Stephen’s was less prominent then Wanda’s but Loki saw it in his eyes. It brought his own grin to Loki’s face, and Thor must have seen it because he clapped him on his shoulder.

  
“What’s going on here?” Loki asked them, willing Thor to stay by his side.

  
“First, we thought it would be appropriate to ask you what you want to do. Would you like to stay on Earth or go with Thor?” Wanda asked.

  
Thor’s fingers squeezed. Loki sought strength from it.

  
“I think I’m staying,” Loki told them, “Barton had a point earlier. I died in space. I was reincarnated back on Earth. That has to mean something.”

  
“If it does then we’ll figure it out,” Stephen affirmed.

  
Thor almost looked betrayed as he squawked, “You were supposed to be sleeping. Loki.”

  
Loki didn’t even turn to his brother as he tipped his head to the side, looked at Stephen and repeated, “We?”

  
Stephen coughed – tall and awkward – as he explained, “Yes. I’ve decided to open the New York Sanctum to Wanda and you. If you were staying on Earth – of course.”

  
Wanda hummed as Loki nodded, “Of course.”

  
“And it seems you are,” Stephen continued inelegantly, which was funny because he seemed like the most graceful person Loki’s met on Earth. “This way I can watch you both.”

  
Loki perked up at the words as he turned to Wanda and inquired, “You’re okay with being watched?”

  
Wanda’s smile didn’t falter – impossibly fond of Stephen for some reason – as she nodded. “I need a place to sleep and free boarding is free boarding. Also, I think it will be fun – all of us in the same house.”

  
Loki felt his smirk grow into something bright and wicked. He felt Thor stiffen at his side, but he was also grinning.

  
“Oh dear Wizard Doctor,” Thor tutted softly, “You have no idea what you just gotten into.”

 

* * *

 

  
“You asked me yesterday if I believed in fate.”

  
Loki looked up from his spot by the room Stephen had given him. It was weird – and probably breaking all sorts of rules – but the Sanctum was an open space and Wong had chuckled when he’d posed the question to him. Stephen wasn’t sure what he made of that, always found the man difficult to read, but he was Sorcerer Supreme and, ultimately, had finally say on matters such as these.

  
And it was smart, Sam reassured him yesterday, keeping an eye on Wanda and Loki.

  
Stephen didn’t remind the man that Tony had attempted it once and, coincidentally, started a civil war amongst the already fleeting Avengers. From his understanding the circumstances had been different as Wanda hadn’t been the one to approach Tony for a place to say. And there had been no Loki, whom she’d grown quite attached to.

  
Stephen thinks he has as well – a curious thing.

  
“I hadn’t been sleeping properly,” Loki instantly tried to explain, going for casual. It was an impressive imitation but Stephen recalled the way his young features had sunken in his troubles.

  
Stephen nodded anyways – not good with emotion, never good with emotion – and reassured, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I didn’t give you an answer last night, though. I thought it appropriate to give you one now.”

  
Loki looked surprised. Stephen was surprised by how emotive Loki’s face could be whenever he wasn’t hiding it all behind a child’s mask. He was reminded by just how old Loki’s mind was, even if his brain disagreed.

  
He protected that town. He beat all six infinity stones. He had once been a threat that concerned him. He was all these things and still a child, who asked if Stephen believed in fate because there was something he wasn’t telling anyone. Something that was still bothering him but was stubbornly keeping to himself.

  
“When I was a teenager, I believed it was my fate to be a surgeon. I was good at it, and it was the only thing I ever felt comfortable in.” Even thinking about it hurt but Stephen shoved it down and continued, “I thought I was where I was meant to be, but then I hurt my hands and was told I’d never be able to complete another surgery again. That was my fate.”

  
“You seem fine now,” Loki noted, green eyes flickering down to the gloves.

  
Stephen’s magic healed the wounds, stopped the shaking, but the scars remained. Stephen had always found that the gloves were easier than questions. Loki seemed to get it, and he looked almost pained on Stephen’s behalf.

  
“The promise of fate hadn’t been enough to stop me from trying. I exhausted every resource and pushed everyone away until I found a way,” Stephen said, “and perhaps that had been fate. Perhaps all of this was where I was always meant to be. Or, perhaps, they had been right. My life was supposed to stop that night of the accident.”

  
Loki’s fingers squeezed at his wrists, his own scars mostly faded. Almost gone. He still looked apprehensive, trying to figure out what Stephen was trying to tell him.

  
“What I’m saying,” Stephen pushed on, “is don’t let anyone determine what your fate is for you. Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be.” Stephen squinted at him, “Is this helping?”

  
Loki’s smile was soft as he nodded earnestly, “Surprisingly, Doctor, it is. Thank you.”

  
Stephen felt a rush of accomplishment. It would have made any lesser man giddy. He settled for the overwhelmingly fond warmth that settled in his chest.

  
He nodded, “I’m glad.”

  
“Yeah,” Loki agreed, still soft, “You’re a good doctor, Strange. And you’re an even better Sorcerer Supreme.”

  
And – _perhaps_ – Wanda and Loki could finally teach him how to be a good man.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to shout at me. I'm very shout-friendly.


End file.
